#(she’d never be caught dead in a shirt otherwise)

[kewpiekills]

Your dog lady and catgirl maid mean so much to me to this day I hope you know that. When you draw women w nipples through the shirt I gain years on my life. the joy u put on this earth is immesurable. also you draw good faces

Champagne and her lucky cat maids… i realize now i’ve never posted the other maid designs. i should get on that

[romione-trope-fest]

Capture My Heart

Title: Capture My Heart

Author: adenei

Trope: Muggle AU

Brief Summary: Work meets play at a work picnic/team bonding event. Hermione gets a little more than she bargained for when a certain redhead is held captive during a healthy team bonding game of Capture the Flag.

WC: 2,541

TW: n/a unless you count excessive forearm mentions

*************

What am I, twelve?

  Hermione paces back and forth in front of the currently unoccupied ‘jail cell.’ Really, it’s a piece of rope tied around a few trees just off the beaten path of the trail that is her team’s home base. Swiping through her phone, she’d rather be anywhere else than playing this stupid game at the stupid company picnic. 

  Don’t they realize she still has a ton of work to get done? Cases never end for a public defender, especially not when certain detectives seem to be a little too good at their job, putting deadbeats who can’t afford their own lawyer behind bars.

It’s not his fault. She should be grateful that there’s someone who actually does their job and takes it seriously, but her workload is screaming otherwise. And since her department refuses to hire an additional person, Hermione will continue to aim all of her resentment at him.

  Now, if only the other side would just capture her team’s flag so they can be done with this God forsaken children’s game. Then she can get back to the office. Yeah, that’d be great.

  Bored out of her mind, Hermione goes back to scrolling the newest set of case files that were emailed to her that morning. It’s the only thing she can do considering she was given the most boring position on her team. Like a group of lawyers and paralegals are going to catch and apprehend a bunch of detectives. And even if they did, what was she going to do? Hold them in contempt? Honestly.

  A rustling from nearby catches her attention, and she locks her phone before shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. At least the fall weather and smattering of dead leaves on the ground prevents anyone from sneaking around too stealthily. 

  “Oi, Hermione, where are you?” Ernie MacMillan, her desk partner, calls from down the path.

  She rolls her eyes, though no one can see her. “Right here, where you left me, remember? To guard an unoccupied makeshift jail cell.”

  “Hey, not my fault McGonagall forced you to participate. And lucky for you, it won’t be unoccupied anymore.”

  “Yeah, right.” She scoffs. “Like any of you caught one of those egotistical prats.”

  “Hey, I take offense to that!” The second voice makes her freeze, a shiver running up her spine.

  Of all the people, does it have to be him?

  Hermione might not just be resentful of that one particular detective for keeping her overworked. It might also have something to do with the fact that he is extremely attractive, charismatic, and all around swoonworthy. And she’s not the only one who thinks that. He’s also way out of her league given all the single straight women in the county building have a crush on him. 

  And who wouldn’t? With messy waves of striking auburn hair that’s faded on the sides, piercing ice blue eyes that can spot the assailant in any situation, and a lopsided smile that’s not only welcoming but inherently trusting, it’s hard not to be attracted to him. But that’s nothing to Hermione. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s his intelligence that turns her on—that and the infuriating way he always rolls his dress shirts up to his elbows, showing off his perfectly sculpted forearms any time he books a criminal. 

  If he ever is single, she assumes it’s never for long. There’s probably a line of women waiting to date him. Not that she’d know or anything. She refuses to delve that deep into his personal life—if for the sole fact it’ll kill the tiny shred of hope she has for something as minimal as getting a drink with him sometime.

  Screw getting a drink with him. You’re about to be left alone in the woods with nothing to do. Take advantage of the situation!

  Oh my god, no. Get it together, Hermione.

  Right. Even as images of potential scenarios flow through her mind, she shakes them out of her head. The last thing she needs is for Ron Weasley to see her drooling over him. Especially since he and Ernie are fast approaching.

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t meant as a compliment,” she retorts, unwilling to let him get under her skin.

  Before the detective can speak again, Ernie cuts in. “Yeah, well, try not to insult him too much. Even holding one hostage increases our chances to win.”

  “I thought jailbreaks were against the rules?” Hermione asks. Not that she cares. She’ll willingly let him go in five minutes just to have her peace and quiet again—if only to daydream about him behind his back.

  Ernie makes a big show of shoving Ron into the makeshift jail cell then looks back at Hermione. “They are. So make sure he stays there.”

  “Or what?” Hermione crosses her arms. “You’ll make me buy coffee for the floor Monday? Sorry, I can’t. I have a full day in court.”

  “Again?” Ernie groans.

  “Yes, which is the reason I’d prefer to be back at the office and not in the woods for a silly picnic to begin with.”

  Ernie grimaces and attempts to placate her, even though they both know it means little to nothing in their field of work. “At least there’s overtime?”

  “I suppose. Though it’d be nice to have a weekend to myself once in a while.” Then Hermione turns to the captor and grumbles. “All thanks to you.” 

  “On that note, I’m going to get back to the rest of the team.” Ernie backs away a few steps, then takes off at a jog.

  Hermione side-eyes the bane of her existence—pointedly as she leans against a tree. Ron holds up his hands in defense. “Hey, don’t blame me for doing my job. You’d think crime rates would start to go down eventually.”

  “Please, Ron,” she chides. “You of all people should know that crime is always going to exist.”

  He saunters—fucking saunters—over to her and props himself against another tree, once again showing off his forearms. Of course he’s still managed to highlight them despite dressing casually with jeans, a heather gray t-shirt, and a dark blue flannel unbuttoned over it. It’s in striking contrast to her jade sweater, jeans, beige peacoat, and brown leather boots.

  Ron looks at her through his light blonde lashes. “So what do you suggest, Hermione? That I not do my job? Turn a blind eye to evidence in an investigation or stop asking key questions during interrogations?” 

  His gaze never falters, and she can’t help but feel like it’s piercing through her, like he’s trying to solve the mystery that she is to him. It’s uncomfortable in all the right ways, sending jolts of energy through her and making her forget where she is and what she’s doing. In all honesty, it’s making her want to jump his bones.

  Which would be completely unprofessional.

  Ugh. This is why she tries to avoid work functions outside the office. It’s much easier to avoid her attraction in that environment. But here, in the woods with the sun shining through the trees and the foliage creating a warm ambience, it’s hard not to let her imagination run wild. It’d be too easy to let herself believe he’s eyeing her with the same want she’s been harboring for over a year.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she forces herself to say. “Just, I don’t know, try a little harder to suggest other lawyers. I’m only one person, and I can only do so much.”

  Ron twists his mouth and cocks his head as he thinks about her suggestion. “I guess I could, but then what excuse would I have to come see you if I’m not delivering cases?”

  His playful demeanor hosts an undertone of seriousness that causes Hermione���s breath to hitch. This time, she’s the one to search his eyes for a deeper meaning, but she’s absolutely terrible at reading people. That’s why she took the public defender position—it was meant to be a stepping stone while she strengthened her abilities to read a jury. Then, she’d be able to go after the job she really wanted. One that would help her do some good in the world. 

  Giving up, she decides to just ask him outright. “Why would you think you need an excuse?”

  “Because detectives don’t usually hang around with attorneys.”

  “Probably because all they do is pile on more work for us.”

  If ‘they’ means Ron and ‘us’ means her, then yes, that would be true.

  “So, you’re saying I could drop in to say hi whenever I feel like it?” Ron raises an eyebrow to accompany his question.

  “If you want, but then people might think we’re friends…”

  He pushes himself off the tree and steps toward the rope separating himself from her. The motion sends an uninvited thrill through her. “Aren’t we?”

  “I figured we were closer to work acquaintances.” 

  She shrugs, attempting to keep things light and breezy while her body is on fire, desperate for her to open herself up to something more. But she won’t. Not yet. Especially when she’s wary of his intentions. After all, the rest of his team is vying for their stupid flag that’s somewhere on the grounds of the park. 

  His hand claps his chest, and he makes a show of stumbling to his knees. “Oh, you wound me, Hermione.”

  “Please, stop being so dramatic.” She lets out an unbecoming snort through her laughter. He grins at her and she rolls her eyes. “This better not be some ploy to distract me in an attempt to get the flag.”

  Ron stands back up and places his hands on his hips, once again flexing his forearms. God, she hates it so much. “Come on, Hermione. If I cared about the game, I wouldn’t have let myself get captured.”

  She bursts into more laughter. “Yeah, right. There’s no way you got captured on purpose. That’s even more suspicious.”

  “Why?” 

  “Because all I’ve listened to this week is how ‘we have to take down Weasley.’ How you’ve ‘single-handedly won the game for the last three years.’ Who’s to say you’re not distracting me just to get closer to your goal?”

  “Maybe my goal isn’t the flag this time.” There’s something about the way he says it that wipes the smile right off her face. 

  “W-what?” she squeaks.

  “Maybe I got captured under the guise of sacrificing myself for a teammate to get closer to the flag when really, I just wanted to spend time with you outside the office.”

  Despite the fact that her heart is positively pounding in her chest, she keeps up her front with an eye roll. “Why?”

  “Because I like you.”

  The words hang between them as she blinks blankly at him. “I—you—” She swallows hard. “You do?”

  Tentatively, he lifts the rope and steps underneath it. The tips of his ears are pink, something she’s noticed every once in a while but never thought anything of it.

  “Uh, yeah. Thought it was obvious.”

  Oh my god, is this actually happening?

  For a moment, she’s completely enraptured by the way he inches closer in an almost tentative matter. But then her mind chooses logic and once again blares the warning signs that this is a game.

  “Not as obvious as ‘no jailbreaks,’” she reminds him.

  He stops and she inwardly kicks herself for ruining the moment—if there’s even a moment to be ruined. But then he grins at her and takes another step forward. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  She can hardly believe it. Hope rushes over her again, and it’s all she can do to try and keep it contained. The last thing she needs is for him to see how completely enamored she is with him. Even still, a little giggle escapes her throat as she volleys a quip. “That’s rather bold, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe. But hopefully it’s worth it.” 

  “Why?” She quirks an eyebrow at him, the unknown meaning behind his words suddenly sobering her.

  A million possibilities flood her mind until he offers a sheepish grin and elaborates. “Because maybe I’ve forfeited the game for personal reasons.

  “Personal reasons?” she repeats. 

  “That center around asking you out.” 

  Asking me—holy shit.

  He waits for a beat as Hermione stares, slack-jawed, at him. Then, he adds, “So, uh, any time you want to put me out of my misery and let me know if it was a wise choice would be great.”

  He’s serious. He’s actually serious. Ron Weasley came here with the intention of asking her out. He could have any girl he wanted, yet he’s here, alone with her, detailing his plans of asking her out.

  She wants to savor every moment. Taking her time, Hermione steps closer to him, memorizing the hope in his eyes, the worry on his browline, the way his cheeks are completely red like he’s embarrassed. Then, a smirk forms on her lips. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “You technically haven’t asked me anything yet.”

  “Oh. Oh. Well, uh, would you want to grab dinner or something?”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” Hermione taps her chin. “I’ve got quite the case load right now. I really shouldn’t. Next week is going to be brutal. There’s no possible way I could give up part of my weekend. Unless…well, I suppose I could be persuaded.”

  Even though she’s messing with him, she still finds herself succumbing to his gravitational pull. Because despite it all, the last thing she wants to convey is the possibility that she might say no. Of course, she’d have to question his detective skills if he could ever believe that.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t have to. She’s not quite sure where the brazenness comes from, but she doesn’t resist the pull urging her even closer. Her hand reaches up, sliding the soft fabric of his flannel between her fingers, which invites him into her personal space, and he grasps her hips. 

  For a moment, she forgets that there’s even a game going on, and that they’re at a work function—one she’d very much like to leave right now if at all possible. But first, there’s another thing she’d prefer. And luckily, he doesn’t make her wait.

  His voice is suddenly husky, filled with lust as his eyes flit down to her lips. “I think that can be arranged.”

  She tilts her head up as he leans down. Their first kiss is gentle, tentative, as if he doesn’t believe she’s given him permission. But from the moment their lips meet, the fire within her reignites, and Hermione wants more. Hungrily, she reaches up, fingers combing through his hair, urging even closer and deepens the kiss.

  Ron moans, squeezing her hips as he backs her into the nearest tree, and if she’s not careful, she might just let him do whatever he wants to her right then and there.

  That thought seems to snap her back to her senses, and she breaks away, her eyes taking a moment to catch up to her mind. Though heavy, she forces her eyelids open and meets his gaze. “So, dinner?”

  Ron nods. “Don’t think they’ll miss us if we leave early, do you?”

  “Not a chance.”

[furys-mercy]

- | Disowned | -

Word Count: 837 Characters: Marcette de Lamoreaux, Sebastian de Vairemont Sebastian Greystone, Dacien de Vairemont (Mentioned)

__________________

As it pleases his lordship, the Baron Dacien de Vairemont, Sebastian, formerly of the House of Vairemont shall be known to all as Sebastian Greystone. Any and all claims to the titles and estates held by the House of Vairemont have hereby been rescinded.

“Why in all of the seven bloody hells are you here?”

Where most would have had the good sense to steer clear of the newly minted Sebastian Greystone, Marcette had been preparing herself for his wrath since she’d received Dacien’s edict. Even going so far as to don her best crimson dress for the occasion, a not-so-subtle nod to recently lost houses and heraldry.  

“Why, my dear brother, might a sister not…” The cold little smirk fell from her lips as she entered the parlor. This was not at all what she had expected. 

“Might what? Come to gloat?” Sebastian lay draped across his settee, shirt open and cravat discarded. “Go ahead. Say your piece.” He took a swig from the half-empty bottle of wine that had been resting in his grip. “But, do choose your words carefully, my Lady Lamoreaux, for they will be the last I shall ever be forced to hear.”

“Is this how you greet your guests, Sebastian?” Marcette gathered her silk skirts and traversed the maze of clothing that lay strewn about the floor. “Mother would be most upset to find that you have forgotten the most important of her many lessons.” 

“You, Marcette, are not a guest. You are a pest. And if I were not absolutely certain that you would howl like a couerl in heat if left on my doorstep overlong, I would not have allowed you entry.” He stared up at her, blue eyes rimmed in dark circles. “Now, was that all?”  

Marcette let out a disgruntled little huff as she perched herself on the edge of the nearby wingback chair that was almost always occupied by her now overly morose brother. The thought had crossed her mind that seating herself upon his proverbial throne might oust him from his stupor. For he had yet to truly rise to her challenge, and she didn’t come all of this way to be disappointed. “Who are you? And what, exactly, have you done with my brother?”

Sebastian nodded towards a piece of parchment on the floor. “You may read for yourself. I am, it would appear, Sebastian Greystone.” His words were punctuated by another swig of wine straight from the bottle, an act that Marcette silently attributed to his recent associations with soot-covered brume rats.

“That is who you have always been.” Her words were matter-of-fact. “Do not act as if today is the first time you are hearing the true nature of your birth. You are a bastard. You have always been a bastard and that truth has never reduced you to…” She wiggled her lace-covered fingers in his direction. “Whatever this is.” 

“That is not the issue at hand and even you are not dense enough to think otherwise.” He pushed himself up onto his elbow, eyes narrowed at her. “Is there no part of you that cares for her wishes?”

Marcette was caught off guard by the question and it showed in her eyes. “She is dead, Sebastian.” A fact that she still struggled with. “Her wishes carry no weight here.”

“And why not? You know as well as I do that Dacien would not have so much as a single cushion to sit his pampered little arse upon if it were not for her. She built our house from near nothing!” He sat up further with each word until he was looming over her, bottle still in hand. “She is owed respect!”

There it was. The rage she had been searching for. Though, she would be loath to admit that it did not truly bring her joy. “Respects were paid and she was sent to the Fury’s halls in fine fashion. You and I can only hope for a mere fraction of the same.” The usual sweetness in her tone was all but gone, destroyed by the weight of the conversation. “She left behind a legacy, I will not argue that point, but you seem to be under the rather misguided impression that said legacy is you when it is most certainly not.” 

Sebastian moved to interrupt her. She raised a single gloved finger. “Ah. Do not worry, dear brother, I do not mean to suggest that I have found myself in the enviable position of filling Ysabel de Vairemont’s rather enormous shoes. I, unlike you, am well aware of my precarious position.” Marcette gracefully rose from her seat, straightening to her full height, which was at least two ilms taller than Sebastian, as she liked to remind herself. “I am also aware of our brother’s position in this family and the power he wields. We rise and fall at his bidding. You must come to be at peace with that.”

The Bastard of Vairemont squared his shoulders and raised his head to meet her gaze. The boy who had been set to drink himself into a stupor was nowhere to be found, having been replaced with the man Marcette had expected to meet. “I have no interest in peace.” 

[unknownjpegs]

burr

She knocks and waits at the front door for five entire minutes. 

…And patience might not be one of Saha’s virtues, sure. But she’s not usually this bad about it. She could stand to wait a bit longer. Anybody else, and she might be inclined to do just that.

Except this is Benji’s place and he’s invited her in the first place, so it’s pretty fucking strange that he’s not at the door faster. 

Or, really, that Xavier’s not.

When she visits, it’s usually him there first. Throwing it open with such rabid excitement that the knob knocks against the wall — there’s a spot there that Benji’s had to patch over at least three times now. Saha would manage guilt about that, it’s just that Xavier has got the sort of I am entirely focused on you! energy that makes her forget how to feel anything but appreciated. 

So, when those five minutes pass and she’s not greeted with a crushing, spinning hug or Benji’s quirked grin, she knows something is wrong. 

Fuck. No, she knows something is up, all right? Can’t go there just yet.

She tries very hard not to let the panic rise too high. Could be all manner of things. Stepped out for a moment (he would have texted her though) or back at the pond (they would have heard the car pull up).

Saha fishes for the key she keeps on a beaded keychain. It’s an old, scraggly bracelet Benji’d made her when they were kids; ancient strand of fraying thread that she’ll cry hysterically over the day it breaks, blue and orange spheres framing two sun-faded letter beads: B & S. 

She lets herself in. Rubs the smooth, bumpy strands between her fingers to soothe her anxiety as she steps into the foyer and finds it empty. 

“Morning,” She hesitates, coat shrugged off as she sets her bag down. “Benj? Xavier?”

Saha rounds the corner, one hand pressed to her chest where her heart’s gone off, already beating rather hard. Kitchen empty, kettle on the counter steaming as if it’s just finished, but unplugged.  Xavier has got his jacket hanging on the rack by the door; Benji’s boots are, of course, kicked messily in the hall. There’s some music going on the television, Benji’s car in the drive, so… so she knows at least someone’s here.

What if they’re not, her brain hisses. What if they’re dead! They could be dead. Someone could have killed them. What if they’ve gone without saying anything. What if you never see him again. What if what if what if — 

Saha shakes her nervous hands out as she moves through the living room, slips down the hall towards the back porch. 

Which is, thankfully where she finds him. Of course. 

Sharp words with appa? Goin’ out. Little row with mum? I’ll be outside. Let off on her because she’d said something that caught him in the wrong way, at the wrong time? Don’t fucking follow me out, Saha.

Even though it’s already near ten in the morning and the breeze is just shy of spring-warm, Benji’s not even dressed properly. Old sleeveless band shirt she remembers buying him from some shifty online shop and a pair of too-big sweats. Cuffed several times, because he’d slip on them otherwise — Xavier’s, then. 

He’s sat at the bottom stair, back to her. Knees up, head tilted and propped in his hand. Other one’s got a cigarette near-done, which is very him. And there’s a fresh looking pack open with more than a few gone, which is very him. 

Don’t even do it often, he’d said the first time she’d caught him with one, nineteen and mopey just like this in their mum’s garden, home on his first proper leave. Only when I’m stressed.

You’re always fuckin’ stressed, dickhead. Saha had shot back. Angry at him, but it had been tinged with a cold, unfamiliar dredge of fear. Concern like she’d not yet known, when it came to him, something frigid and real in a way that monsters under the bed and bruised knuckles from a nasty fight had never been. That icy fear is what had made her grab the lit cigarette from his hand, made her toss it aside. And then they’d gone at each other, of course, spitting and childish and certainly loud enough the neighbors’d heard, until appa had come out to break it up.

Now, she just watches him pull on it. Still thinking, uh oh, but the panic ebbs into relief. It’s not happy body language — not for anybody. Benji’s well fucking reserved, unreadable at the worst of times. So the the fact that he’s got such a morose little slouch going says nothing good; what it communicates is enough. Because Saha knows how he gets when he’s really in his head, and that’s more frightening than this.

Well, here we go then. She takes a deep breath, steels her shoulders. 

“A’right, Benj,” Saha greets, taking a spot a few steps up from him. Keeps a bit of space, but knocks her knee against his shoulder. He doesn’t move, doesn’t swat at her. Face forward, looking out over the pond. 

She glances around. No big redhead sprawled out in the grass, not crouched down by the shore laughing himself silly at the ducks, not rounding the side of the house to be gross on her brother. 

Uh oh, she thinks again. What’s it this time? 

Because they get into proper fucking fights. Not even just regular little rows, but nasty ones. She knows because she’s been on the receiving end of both sides a venting, frustrated rant.

From Benji: swear to god there’s concrete up there, so fucking hard-headed. From Xavier: sahaaaaaaa he’s being stubborn again.

She smothers the smile down just in case he turns to see it. Would send him right over the fucking edge again.

“No.”

“Well, obvi.” She snorts. “And?”

“Got into it.” Benji says. He’s got that even, cold tone that tells her he’s not yet shaken free of the anger. Still pissed, might snip at her if she goes about it wrong.

“Come on, Benji. I figured. Bad, I reckon?” She asks, watching as he lifts the cigarette and blows smoke. 

He laughs humorlessly. Dull. Waves the smoldering now-filter, as if the empty space beside him is explanation enough. 

She could roll her fucking eyes at that. Dramatic little pisser. 

“What’s it been then?” His hair is soft under her palm when she rests it atop his head. That he lets her is a good sign. “He trip over your mess again and laid into you about it?”

Benji looks up at her, at that. Sometimes he gets this haze to his eyes she doesn’t recognize, and it frightens her. Not that she doesn’t recognize him, but that there’s something they don’t share. That he won’t ever share with her, she knows. 

Because she’s seen Benji at his everything: sky-high and dirt fucking low. Witnessed all his swinging moods. Seen him riled angry at some shite out somebody’s mouth, seen him euphoric behind a kit and slamming away like he was meant to be there, seen him child-scared at eight, teary at a snake on the path.

But this? Whatever deep, bone-ache hurt that’s there is wholly unfamiliar to her. Sure, he keeps it that way. But also that, even if he shared she might not get it, because she hadn’t been present. It’s something taken up in the muddy years, the in-between moments where he stuffs them all in a closet and turns to face whatever he does when he’s out there. When she’s not there with him.

Every single second, she wishes she had been.

She’s not stupid. She knows the source and that kills her. Makes her want to go back in time and get more in his stupid teenage face about it than she had. Shake him by the shoulders until the vapid, world-blind idealism sprinkled out. But then…could anyone have convinced him that loyalty could be shown in other ways? 

Dunno. But I should’ve been more angry. I should have let you see it. Should have stopped you.

Thinking of Benji and what he’s been through, what he’s been through alone, causes this helicopter whirr feeling in her chest. Like someone’s taken a whisk to her insides and mixed her up. It’s the thing she always gets when he so much as pouts — fix fix fix fix fix — wanting to hover and buffet away the shadows that creep up on him. Keep him safe, because that’s Benji. 

Little fucking arsehole of a brother, really gave her more trouble than she deserved, but that’s Benji.

“Yeah,” Benji says. His chin jerks (about to cry, Saha notes) when he tears his focus from her face. “Yeah, tripped over my fuckin’ mess.”

Saha sighs, eyes to the sky at his tone. “C’mon, Benj. Don’t twist. Get off the stage.”

“You’ve said it.” He shrugs, puts the smoke out next to him. They both watch the little gray bits flutter off in the slight breeze. 

“Sure but,” Saha moves forward until she’s standing directly behind him. Benji tips back reflexively to lean back on her shins while she pats his head. “Are you hearing what I’m saying or are you hearing what you wanna?”

Benji groans, looking at her upside-down a moment before dropping his gaze forward. “Need another if you’re gonna start going therapy on me.”

Saha swats him on the side of the head lightly. He grumbles and reaches out for the pack, but the audible stomp of her boot over it makes him pause.

“N’vermind. Guess I’m done.”

“Yep,” Saha chirps, and then drops down next to him. Rather, above and to the side, few steps up. “Sure are.” Her knee knocks into his shoulder.

They’re both quiet a long moment, nothing but birdsong and the taptaptap of Benji’s knuckles on the porch. Wind picks up like it’s about to rain, so Saha shields her eyes and looks up. 

“He’s gone where, exactly?”

Benji shrugs, but he glances side-long out past the pond towards the thick treelined edge of the property. “Dunno.” 

“Wanna let me know what it was about?” He hesitates, then shakes his head. “M’kay. Wanna talk about how you handled it, then?” 

He starts to do it again, so Saha firms her hand and pushes his head up-down in a forced nod. “Boss, Benj. Real proud of you for communicating.”

She slips down another step, scowling as a loose nail catches the hem of her skirt. She yanks, scoffs at the soft riiiip of fabric. “Awh, shit. Anyway. Were you listening or —“

“Fuck off.”

Ignoring him, raising her voice over his grumble: “Were you being an active participant and a partner, or were you in a debate.”

Benji scoots over and twists to glare at her. 

She stares back, eyebrows up. Waits him out, then: 

“Fuck off.” 

“Yeah,” Saha laughs. “That’s what I thought.” 

He stares off into the woods, brow furrowed. He’s tapping his foot now, too.

“I thought it’d be easy, y’know. There was just so much fuckin’ —” he huffs, disbelief evident. “It was hard all the time. Not — not with him. But the rest… Saha, I ever tell you the first time we kissed, it was in an active combat zone?” 

She must make a horrified face, because he nods, laughs.

“Yeah, right? Real normal shit. And Xavier’s…he’s got this through-and-through, bleeding everywhere. And I’m patchin’ him up.” Benji cups his hands together, splays them out in a helpless gesture, and then threads his fingers. Looks a bit darker on his cheeks, which makes her smile. “So he kisses me. And I’m thinking shit, you know? Shit, if this is the only one I get, I’m gonna be right fuckin’ pissed. Pissed forever.”

Saha snorts. Means for it to just be that, the single noise, but they both end up descending into big, guffawing laughter. Off-set the seriousness of his story with their humor, in the way they’ve always done. 

“Big fuckin’ bomb just drops out of the sky. Little whistle noise, how it goes in cartoons? Wooooooo-splat.”

He tosses his head back. “Exactly. Splat. Just my luck, y’know?” 

Hearing him say it, for some reason, sobers her. The reality of the situation slithers into the corners of her mind, and all Saha can think about is how she’d be sobbing and too ill to properly treat somebody with a bleeding wound. A bullet wound; so then she’s thinking of Xavier even paler than he already is, gray, and then she thinks of him in black and white, all the color drained out like an old photo. And she feels sick.

She’s got no idea how Benji manages it, medic shit. Can’t imagine blood. Can’t possibly imagine how it must have felt, blood and medic shit and Xavier.

 “That is proper fucking scary.” Saha says, because it’s true and she lacks the words to describe the feeling in her gut otherwise. “That’s awful, Benji. I mean, that’s…that is just awful.” 

“I know. I know, fuck. S’not even the worst of it,” he says, and then groans and shoves a hand through his hair. Makes it stick up all funny, so Saha reaches out and smooths it down. 

“Wish you hadn’t stepped on those. Could use one.”

“Tough.”

He shakes his head. When he tips his chin back, he looks like appa out in the garden, early-hours, taking sips of tea in between poses. Head always tilted up, serene and present. Except Benji’s real distant now, and he’s not got the bushy, silver-streaked mustache their father has worn for as long as Saha can remember.

“We weren’t together all the time,” Benji says after a moment. “Apart more of it, really. And I was always thinkin’, what if it’s just this one kiss? Then,” he breathes out a shuddering, shaky breath, so she puts a hand on his back. “Y’know. Then I was thinking, what if I don’t see him again? What if —” He glances over at her with wide, wet eyes. Saha’s own vision blurs. Always does, when she sees him cry. More than empathy tears — like the strand that connects them shares emotions, as well. 

“Fuck.” She looks towards the trees. “Are you worried that he’s not coming back, or something?”

“No,” Benji says immediately, wiping the back of his wrist over his face. “No, fuck. It was bad but he always — he’s always back soon. It’s not that.” 

She waits, palm moving in circles on that thin, familiar, threadbare black shirt. 

“I mean, what if it’s…s’posed to be easy, isn’t it?”

“Benji.”

His head jerks again, the motion angrier. “Nah, but listen. What if it’s supposed to be easier? Saha, he’s… like, why’s this just another thing? Shouldn’t it be a good thing coming ‘round? He’s fuckin’ gone through it and I don’t know anybody — it should be easy.”

“It is easy,” Saha forces a laugh, trying to break up the waver and crack in his voice, in the air. “Have you heard yourselves? Fuck, you are annoying. Literally talk circles and never breathe about it, swear.” 

Benji’s deep frown softens slightly.  

“I wish I knew where everything was going.” He waves his hand. It’s shaking. “Thought I knew where I was going, ended up there. Was fuckin’ hard, so hard that I thought I would —” crack, a barely audible whimper, and she squeezes him. “And I ended up here. And it’s just…it’s easy, and then it’s so fucking hard, and I’m just waitin’. I wanna know if it’s temporary, if the good is just a bit and then the rest comes in a lot, ‘cuz I’ve…fuck. Wouldn’t even be shocked, because it should be easy always for him. He’s just been through —“

It takes a lot to get him to talk that much, and it’s not the easiest thread to follow. But Benji tosses it out like a hook on the end of a line, and Saha will always pierce herself on the end and be pulled to shore, for him. 

“Benj. You have too.”

She sees the violent, sudden spasm of his throat on the noise strangled in it. Shuffles closer until their sides press together and she can sling an arm around his shoulders. 

“You have too, Benj. And that’s — that’s shit, yeah? Wish it weren’t that way. But listen to me. Xavier is…he’s quick.” She points fingers behind her head, wiggles them. “Fuckin’ sixth sense, you know? You’d be out here alone if that radar dinged wrong.” She squeezes at him, never failing to be shocked that this man is the hundred-pound soaking wet kid who blubbered at her if he didn’t get his way.

“I mean, you have gotta realize that sometimes people are here for you.” She scruffs the hair above his ear, uses that to press their temples together. “Get it from appa, I know, but you’re not meant to be perfect. You’ll get good and easy and you’ll get proper fuckin’ bad and hard, but that don’t mean you, like, didn’t deserve the good in the first place.”

Saha purses her lips, swallowing whatever else of the rant. She’s gotten out the important bits, anyway. 

“Benj?” She asks, when he’s quiet. He sniffles. “Aw, fuck. Sorry.”

“M’fine,” he tilts his head and rubs his face on her fluffy sweater. Dutifully, she howls with disgust, but does not pull away. “You fucking suck, do you know that?” 

“Sure fucking do.” Saha chirps. “Part of my job. That and worrying. Speaking of.” She inclines her head.

On cue, the woods at the far end of the property line part. The bushes spit Xavier out like he’s trudged from the bowels of the earth and it didn’t appreciate his taste.

Both siblings watch as he stumbles away from the thicket, scowl clear even from the distance. He plucks a twig from the crown of his head, tosses it aside with a stronger than necessary throw. Saha wouldn’t be surprised if he’s cursing into the wind.

“Fuck’s sake,” Benji sighs, yet there’s a smile woven delicately through. “If he’s got burrs in his hair again m’not lettin’ him hear the end of it.” 

Saha pictures Xavier whining as Benji brushes him out and laughs. When he joins in, she takes this as clear permission: she leaps a bit into the air as she stands, unable to hold back the big grin and bubble of excitement as she lifts a hand.

Xavier’s scowl disappears so quick that another raucous noise bursts out of her. Partially a chuckle, partially a hey! and partially his name. Sometimes he reminds her of a house lit up from the inside without the curtains drawn, his face the big transparent window hiding none of the furnishings. He throws both long arms in the air and waves in big sweeps. 

Then a glance over at Benji, and he drops them to cross over his chest.

“Ooh,” Saha snickers. “Looks miffed still.” 

“Dickhead.” Benji scoffs, but the smile in his voice grows louder. He’s stood as well, shuffled a step closer to her. He’s got goosebumps up his bare arms, and Saha’s eyes trail across the fading, blown-out lines of a pair of tattoos near his inner elbow. 

An old instant camera, the kind they used to walk to buy from Poundland — nick from Poundland, in his case. Her name in careful, loopy blocked letters in place of the camera brand is barely recognizable after ten-plus years. But it’s there. It’s there on his arm, in his skin, right next to a shitty and inaccurate bird sporting high-heels and a wonky beak. Maran, she knows, is the other time-blurred name Benji’d meticulously dotted down one of its spread wings. 

That’s not even the worst of it.

“C’mon,” Saha says, clearing her throat. She balances an elbow a bit meanly atop his head. He scowls up at her, still grinning, and pulls away. He used to shove her if she did that, when they were kids. He hasn’t roughhoused her in years — not since they were kids. Not since he enlisted. Benji would always be that gangly, gap-toothed boy. Clear sense of justice, utterly lacking the self-preservation that would prevent him from fighting dickheads twice his size. 

And the loss of that, the annoying little brother shove, fills her with the same inexplicable sense of mourning as the camera on his arm, the wonky-beaked bird. It’s the yearning homesickness of nostalgia, somehow weighed twice heavier. The them of before, sitting wherever old selves sit. Blurred nearly unrecognizable, but there.

Saha swallows down the sudden lump in her throat. “Go throw on an episode of that show he likes, yeah? When he comes in, you’ve got something to say so it’s not so fuckin’ awkward.“

Benji stares up at her, his dark eyes glossed with unshed tears. Then he yanks her into a quick hug. “You’re a genius.”

“Fuck’s sake,” she sighs, patting him on the back. “Finally some recognition.” Benji darts back into the house.

Just in time: Xavier’d been moving slow and hesitant, but now he rounds the edge of the pond in a jog. Bounds up the stairs, all five steps, with a big leap that nearly brings him crashing into her.

All of him is anxiety-tight, as he stands there. Not even the big toothy grin he’s plastered on can hide it. 

“Xavier.”

He glances over her shoulder towards the house. Relaxes. Shoulders hunched a bit in that reprimanded, lonely animal sort of energy. Makes her just as sad to see that as it does Benji’s tattoos, his near empty pack of cigarettes.

 She holds her arms out.

That posture corrects immediately. He lopes over all funny, that way that makes Benji roll his eyes and look away with a grin threatening. Xavier wraps her up in a hug. He’s cold on the outside from the wind, from traipsing around the woods, but still warm underneath. 

Saha envelops him in a nice tight one because they’ve not seen each other in a bit. And then, whisper-quiet,meant just for him: “I’ve well ragged ‘em out, ‘kay? Go give him one of these, too. Pout enough and we can get a proper breakfast out of it.” 

“Stop plotting.” Benji grumbles, suddenly standing in the doorway. Nosy.

“Fuck off,” Saha fires back, flipping him a finger between Xavier’s shoulders. “We are having a moment.” 

In the end, they watch four episodes of a shit visa-catfish-dating scheme show. Xavier suffers dutifully through the expense of many, many jokes. By the end of the last one, Benji has adjusted himself to drape himself over Xavier. It’s tense, when he moves, and then it all dissipates into that thoughtless normalcy when Xavier drops his forehead against Benji’s shoulder hard. 

Fuck you. Forgiven. Love you. She’s gotten good at picking up their patterns, because a disgustingly sweet amount of it happens non-verbally.

And in the end, Benji makes more than enough food for the three of them. So much of it that Saha’s send off includes a stack of full glass food containers. 

Better for the environment, Xavier says earnestly, and sometimes it really is hard to think about him hurting people at all. She thinks about how months ago, he’d been just about a burglar in this house. She thinks about what a successful break-in that had been — got a pleased, softened glimmer to his eyes, hands tucked into the pockets of one of Benji’s hoodies, and a warm bed out of the deal. 

*

I’m so fucking happy for him, Saha’s thinking as she drives off, eyes trained on the two of them stood in the door through her rearview. Xavier’s doing his two-armed wave, Benji’s got his middle finger outstretched nice and high so she can see it. I am so fucking happy for them.

And then she remembers suddenly that she’d forgotten to mention getting the business licensing sorted for a studio. That she’s been broaching the subject of stepping back with her agent. 

A hand drops from the wheel to her pocket, thumb tracing the corners of two business cards: Which one, ‘cuz I like the gold letters, personally, but the border is nice on this, she hadn’t asked. 

And there’s no bitterness in the next thought, because when she glances back in the mirror at them, she better understands her mum. Better understands the kids at the door returning empty plastic ware, borrow sweaters, CDs, and toys with their big, wet eyes.

 She loves them so fucking much, so desperately, and they deserve to have a proper fight. Deserve to work through one and come out better for it. There’s no bitterness, because it’s absolutely impossible not to light up chest-warm with abject joy when she spends time around those two fucking idiots.

But there is a tiny, distant, prickling stab of envy slid between her ribs like a knife:

Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone gentle their fingers into your hair and pluck out burrs?

[nightingaletrash]

Faustian Bargain

AO3

The fire burned hot in the hearth, smoke belching up the chimney and loose curls furling through the cramped kitchen. The tiny square window was fogged over as the rain outside continued to pour. The kettle boiled away merrily, unaware of the stinking rags burning below it.

She still felt unclean.

Vaylin’s fingers drummed over the knot in the table, her leg bounced and her eyes remained fixed on some distant point beyond sight. Her hair was wet, the dirt and soot wrung out of it, the blood cleaned away, and she’d pulled on one of Orion’s old shirts in lieu of getting dressed. She drowned in the fabric, but it was soft and smelled faintly of sage which was a vast improvement.

He hadn’t been in Black Alley when she arrived, caked in muck and death. Desdemona reported that he’d returned briefly, gave the Graven their new instructions and then departed again to begin preparations for ‘the next step.’ So she went home, hoping that maybe he had stopped there first. Instead she only found Constantine sitting on the step and yowling to be let inside with his latest prize: a stringy, mangled magpie.

Well, she was home now, and her exhaustion had caught up in full. She struggled to do anything beyond the mechanical motions of stripping, cleaning, burning, brewing, and staring blankly at the wall as she turned things over in her mind.

Her father was out in the City doing who knows what, all while the Graven horde marched on as the Keep finally crumbled and fell. Most of her friends were dead, and Roland was hanging on by a thread. The fact he hadn’t died while she was gone was nothing short of a miracle, but his odds weren’t good.

In short, it had all gone to hell and she had no idea what she was supposed to do about it.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to.

A brisk knock at the door startled her from her stewing and Constantine hissed, curling himself around his catch and dragging it back into his shadowy corner.

Vaylin stared at the door in bewilderment but slowly rose from her seat, ignoring the initial trill of the kettle. As she stared at the back of the door, her mind ran itself through a dozen ideas of who could possibly be calling at this time of night. Her neighbours wouldn’t risk breaking the curfew, and her father would let himself in. Basso was down in the Southern Quarter, Garrett would never dream of knocking on anyone’s door, and the Graven would just call for her from outside when they weren’t busy ransacking the City.

A glance through the fogged up window revealed only a shadowy figure. Undoubtedly masculine, but obscure. Her stomach knotted itself over and her instincts screamed at her to run as she reached for the door handle.

Instead she pulled it open and revealed none other than Watch Officer Burke.

“Good evening, Miss Hucks. May I come in?”

Her heart stopped in her chest at the sight of the Officer on her doorstep, looking ruffled and stinking of smoke but otherwise looking none the worse for wear. He wore his sword at his hip, but the blade was strapped into its scabbard, and he didn’t smile or scowl; his expression was carefully neutral as he waited for invitation to step out of the rain.

She knew better than to humour a Watchman. This was no social call, and she didn’t doubt that Burke was hoping to find some resolution to the riot through her. Maybe answers as to where Orion was. She ought to slam the door, bar it, run for the back door and never look back.

But something possessed her to step back and let Burke inside.

He did so with a grateful tip of his head and removed his helmet, revealing the neatly combed black hair that was streaked with grey. He glanced around the modest accommodations and then moved over to the kitchen table to sit himself down.

Now the kettle was whistling shrilly, demanding Vaylin’s attention, so she moved past Burke to the fireplace. She set the kettle on the side, debating between pouring the cup for herself or for Burke, all while trying to calculate exactly what his next move might be. He was now between her and the door after all.

Constantine was glowering at the Officer from his corner and growled lowly at him when he caught the man’s eye.

“Your cat is smarter than most of the people in this city,” Burke commented conversationally. “The Old Gods must like him, for all the trouble he’s weaselled his way out of.”

“I didn’t think the Watch liked the Old Gods,” she replied. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

So she poured the cup for herself and tentatively sat down opposite Burke, who regarded her with interest as he set his helmet on the table. And for several beats that may have been minutes, they sat in silence with only the drumming of rain to occupy them.

She didn’t drink her tea. Just gripped the cup so the heat could remind her that this was real, this was happening, and she needed to be prepared for anything.

Prepared? She was sitting there in only her father’s shirt with nothing but a cup of tea to defend herself while Burke was armed and armoured and sitting between her and the exit. A strap of leather wouldn’t keep that sword from taking her head off if Burke decided that he really wanted to use it. And the fact he knew that she lived here, knew her surname, probably knew her first one too-

Gods, she really was entirely fucked wasn’t she?

Burke sighed heavily and rested his forearms on the table, his fingers laced together as he leaned forward.

“I think we both know why I’m here, Vaylin,” he began. “Your father’s activities were innocent enough when he was tending the sick in Blackfurrow. It was noble, even. And it kept people relatively placated in the face of the Gloom. Reason enough to be less… proactive, in his arrest.

“Now, however, we have a crisis on our hands. The Graven are burning this City to the ground, and we’ve yet to hear so much as a peep from Orion. Not a single call for the violence to end, and no effort made to reduce the harm this riot causes-”

“That makes two of us,” Vaylin muttered as she took a sip of her tea.

“So then you see that this needs to stop. People are dying and I can’t stop it all by myself,” he pressed on. “How do you see this ending, Vaylin? That the fall of the Baron and the Watch will magically bring about some unheard of utopia? No. Orion will prop himself up as the new leader of the City, then he will fail to realise how very much out of his depth he is. He will delude himself into believing that things are getting better, that he has succeeded, and his sycophants will tell him that it is so. And when winter comes and people starve and freeze in their homes, do you think Orion will shatter his delusion and take responsibility for his mistakes? Or will he find someone else to take the blame?”

The grip on her cup tightened and her jaw clicked as she met Burke’s gaze.

“You talk an awful lot about responsibility for a man who’s failed so miserably in his own,” she hissed. “Whatever my father’s flaws, at least he never resorted to beating his child for speaking out of turn.”

His eyes widened and his whole body tensed. For a second his jaw worked as his fingers tightened around themselves, and he succeeded in maintaining his composure.

“My failures are not the reason I am here,” he said stonily. “Whatever I have done, the City’s safety is my priority.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” she sniped. “Last I heard, you focused on protecting the Keep as it crumbled instead of evacuating it all because of a few Graven leaders.”

“I had my orders to bolster our defences, and I did so,” he snapped. “That was the General’s priority-”

“So you’d do whatever the General says and send people into a burning hellhole, knowing they would die? And you still think that you have the moral high ground here?”

Burke slammed his fist into the table and rose from his seat with a thunderous scowl on his face. Vaylin glared back, all but daring him to draw that sword and prove himself to be exactly what she knew him to be.

And then the door opened and her heart dropped lower than she thought possible.

“Burke. I see you beat me to it,” the Thief-Taker chuckled as he stepped inside with that ever-familiar tap of his cane. “Ever the efficient one, aren’t you.”

“General, sir.” Burke snapped to a salute. “I was just about to-”

The General waved him off as he strolled over to the table.

“Miss Hucks. Viktoria, isn’t it?” he greeted with a slimy smile as he lowered himself into Burke’s seat and rested his cane against the table. “The good Officer here tells me that you might be of some assistance to us in cleaning up this mess.”

Burke stood at ease at the General’s shoulder, cold and impassive.

The General then reached over and plucked the cup from her hands and gave it a sniff. He looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Don’t suppose you have anything stronger, do you?”

Sure, let her just whip together some belladonna, rosary pea and hemlock. That’d be one hell of a drink to serve them both. Instead she just shook her head, and the General sighed.

“Then let me make this quite simple; I know that you worked with Garrett at the Keep. I also know that Orion has plans to take this city for himself. As far as I’m concerned, I should string you up from a noose for all the trouble you’ve caused. But I am a generous and understanding man.”

He reached into an inside pocket of his coat and produced a flask. He unscrewed the lid and poured a generous amount of amber liquid into the cup before putting it away again, and then picked up the cup to swirl it.

“I am willing to overlook your crimes against this City. All I need in return is Aldous… and Garrett.”

Her stomach flipped and twisted and her chest tightened. Garrett had succeeded in escaping the Keep then. And now the General was leaning on her to try and catch him. And not only did he know her real name, he knew her father’s too, of course he did.

“I don’t know where they are,” she said.

“But you will, won’t you?” The General smiled condescendingly. “Sooner or later, daddy is going to call you away for whatever the fuck he’s doing. And when he does, you tell our good friend Officer Burke. And then, when Garrett comes skulking about for your help, you make sure he ends up right where he needs to be.”

She shook her head.

“Garrett won’t need my help. He doesn’t need it,” she insisted. “The Keep was a one off. I needed to find my friends, he needed to find his… fence. We had an overlap in interests, that’s all. He doesn’t care about Orion or the Graven or anything they’re doing. I can’t help you.”

The smile tapered as the General lifted the cup and levelled a finger at her.

“Ah, but you can. And you will, if you know what’s good for you. See, Garrett’s all tangled up in Aldous’ threads. Has been ever since the explosion at the manor last year. He won’t leave that score unsettled.”

Vaylin frowned.

“My father was imprisoned in Moira when that happened,” she argued. “The Graven didn’t attack the manor, they didn’t even exist back then-”

But he barked out a laugh, as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“And here I thought you’d be the one who knew it all,” he guffawed.

He took another swig of tea, still chuckling to himself as he shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

“He never told you, did he? About who he is, where he came from?” He grinned, flashing his teeth and she felt very much like she was being cornered by a predator. “I suppose even daddy has secrets. Like the fact that his whore mother fucked the old Baron. Or that he went away because big brother Elias asked for his help with a secret project?”

“You’re lying.”

His grin widened.

“On the contrary, I might be the first person to tell you the truth.”

Vaylin trembled from head-to-toe as the Thief-Taker just laughed in her face and downed what was left of the tea. He sighed, still chuckling as he watched the shock and horror swim over her face.

“See this, Burke? I told you she’d know fuck all,” he laughed. Then he leaned in, still grinning broadly. “You want to know a secret, Princess? Daddy doesn’t want to bring down old Elias because it’s the right thing to do, or to build some grand fucking utopia like he tells you. He just wants what he thinks should be his: power, gold, respect, and for everyone else to do what he fucking tells them to do.”

He reached for his cane and pushed himself up to stand. He took one last swig of tea, finished the cup and adjusted his belt.

“I’ll let you sit on what I’ve told you. Let you come to terms with it all,” he said theatrically, still enjoying his single-handed destruction of everything she knew. “You know where Burke lives, he’ll get the message to me. You have till sundown to give me your answer. Either you can help me catch Aldous and Garrett, or your noose can swing between their’s.”

The men left and yet all the warmth had been sapped from the room, even as the fire crackled away merrily. The world was cold and silent and she was overcome by the urge to be sick. She heaved into the sink, though there was nothing to be brought up but bile and a mouthful of tea.

Constantine finally slunk out of his corner, meowed inquisitively at her, then wrapped his way around his ankles.

But she couldn’t stop shaking. 

Slowly she let herself slide to the floor and Constantine crawled into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and curled inwards, focusing only on his droning purr even as her eyes burned and her lungs ached.

Liar.

It was all a lie. It always had been. And she'd believed every fucking word of it.

Tears dripped down her face and she clutched at her head as that damned word filled it, over and over again.

Liar liar liar liaR liAR lIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR

She erupted with a lung-shredding scream.

[uselesssomebody]

𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕚...? - eddie munson x reader (nsfw)

complete masterlist | stranger things masterlist | eddie munson masterlist

words || 𝟜𝕜

summary || in which eddie finally talks to the cute bartender

a/n || hi i'm not dead. also ppl on this blog who don't care abt eddie munson must hate me and for them i am so sorry. for my fellow eddie simps, i bring you another installment of horny. ➵ there is smut in this, making in 18+ content. please do NOT interact if you are under 18 ➵ not yet proofread - if you see mistakes tell me because typos are a massive turn-off ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut smut warnings: ➵ porn with some plot ➵ consent checks (like every other word) ➵ oral (m receiving) ➵ cum eating ➵ p.i.v. unprotected sex ➵ not that glamorous tbh (like ppl get tired & body fluids are kind gross but you're also horny so they're not that gross but their still sticky i.e. gross)

the hideout was empty, as usual. eddie was warm, sweating under his shirt, as he found himself blinking to rid his eyes of the glare of the harsh lights on the stage he’d just been playing on. corroded coffin had earned themselves a smattering of applause after their act - with a record four people clapping as they walked off.

he’d helped gareth load everything into his parent’s van, and waved off his three bandmates as they drove off. usually, he’d join them, but he found the warm atmosphere of the establishment beckoning him back inside.

the sound of the door creaking open was rather loud in the otherwise quiet building, and, as he looked up to the bar, he could see a small smile on her face.

he’d lied - it had not, in fact, been the establishment beckoning him inside, but, rather, its sole employee - the pretty bartender currently turned away from him as she organized drinks on the shelves behind the counter.

he slid - maybe not as smoothly as he hoped, but whatever - into a bar-stool, absentmindedly rapping his ringed knuckles over the wooden surface. he stared, quite obviously, at her as she meticulously arranged the drinks by type and size.

she knew he was behind him, probably waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t just yet. she thought it might be helpful to build some tension as he sat and she worked in silence.

finally, she placed the last bottle into place, tinkering with it to make sure it stayed on the shelf. then, she turned around, smiling in a way that made it look like she was pleasantly surprised to see him.

“hello, sir. what can i get for you?” she didn’t really call anyone else sir, it was just fun to see his hard swallow after she did.

“i’ll take a beer, thanks.” it’s a little mumbled, and she goes to reach for it, before stopping.

“am i gonna need to see some i.d.?” he stared blankly for a second, before laughing, causing her to laugh as well. of course she was teasing - he’d been here so many times before. and his face - well, it wasn’t one she’d easily forget. she slid the chilled glass bottle to him, the foam at the top fizzing just a little at the movement. he clutched it in his hands with a grateful smile, happy that the cold of the drink could neutralize the flush of his cheeks as he held her gaze for just a moment too long. they were silent for a moment, as she toyed with a rag that she was now using to clean the already spotless counter.

they’d never really gotten further than this: his request, her handing it to him, and then the two of them existing in a unbelievably tense silence. when he wasn’t looking at her, she’d let her eyes drift over his post-performance appearance, almost wanting to reach out and touch the soft frizz of his hair. similarly, he ogled at the pretty get-up that she had on, a small skirt and thin t-shirt, while wanting to trace the mauve nail polish on her fingers. she had on some sharp eyeliner that looked like it’d taken a while to perfect, and her dark mascara made her eyes less visible in the low light.

“you write all those songs?” shit, she’d caught him following her every move, and he blinked before looking up at her. she doesn’t seem mad, though - rather, she had the light dust of a flush on her neck.

“hmm? yeah - i mean, uh, some of them. the rest are covers.” she nods, a tight-lipped, almost conservative smile on her face.

“they’re - uh, you’re good. you guys are.” she clarified herself, but eddie took the initial complement. he tipped the bottle in her direction with a wink, making her roll her eyes, before taking a long sip.

there was another silence - well, not really - as she was humming a small tune. was it one of the songs that he’d written? he sure hoped so. another patron walked past, waving her goodbye as he headed out of the door. she smiled and half-waved at him.

“how long have you been working here?” she looked up from her task of checking there were no dents at the bar counter, and her eyes looked so damn doe-like for that moment that it made him want to smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

“oh, since i graduated - about a year and a half.” he nodded. really, he’d already kind of known that - he’d been in school with her and had starting seeing her around the time after she graduated while he played shows. he’d not really spoken to her until about seven months in, though. he wouldn’t like admitting it, but she intimidated him a little bit, “what about you? how’s school?” it’s small talk of the highest degree, but he’s still latching onto it.

“school is -” he exhales a laugh, poking a tongue into his cheek, “- it’s school, y’know?” she did in fact know.

“mrs. o’donnell still not treating you well?” at the mention of the name he groaned deeply, placing his head in his hands. with her question practically answered, she laughed loudly, the sweet sound echoing throughout the bar.

he takes another sip of his drink as she comes back down, a small smile still on her lips.

“when’s your shift over?” he asks, after a moment of silence. for a moment, she seems the process the question - nay, the insinuation - as her smile fades, before she turns away from him to hide her grin.

“oh - in about -” she checked her watch, in an act of nonchalance as opposed to practicality, “- a half-hour?” it’s a statement, but phrased as a question, as she’s really asking him if he’s willing to wait that long.

lucky for her, he was.

the last step of the closing process had been flicking the lights off and locking the door and, through that process, he had been following her around like a puppy. watching as she cleared patrons, cleaned the tables and dusted the floors a little, before striking a cigarette once they were both outside. his eyes were still glued to her, though, almost as if she’d disappear the moment he turned away. he fumbled with the box in his pocket as he offered one to her, and she found it pretty endearing.

“i’m alright, thanks.” he nodded, pulling the cigarette he had been balancing out of his mouth in order to exhale.

“where’s your place?” she looked up pointing to a side road about a hundred meters away.

“it’s a right there and then a bit of a walk.” when she looks back at him, she can see that he has a bit of a grimace.

“and you walk home at this time by yourself everyday?” with every word, the concept seemed more and more ludicrous to him, making her feel a bit sheepish in answering him.

“um - well, i didn’t have to today, did i?” he pauses for just a half-second, before laughing and falling back into step with her.

soon, he’s filling her in on the latest gossip at hawkins high, and she was telling him about the mischief that occurred at the hideout. he was easy to talk to, and she was more interesting than he thought that she’d be - being a little blunt with her language and anecdotes. though - he figured - that was likely necessary in a field such as bartending.

they reach her place quicker than expected, and both of them can tell that the other didn’t want the conversation to end. after a moment of loitering at her door, they decided to speak up.

“do you wanna-”

“i should-” they both looked at each other for a moment, before she laughed.

“do you wanna come inside? it’s a little late, but-”

“yes! uh, sure.” he hopes he doesn’t sound too excited, but the smirk on her lips implies that he wasn’t as smooth as he hoped.

she ushers him in, locking the door behind her as she shrugged her light jacket off. she gestured to a coat rack behind him so that he could hang his jean jacket, and her eyes traced over the tour dates of the metallica t-shirt he had on. he cocked his head to her, catching her eyes on him, so she looks away, deciding instead to show him around.

“- and that’s the kitchen and living room, and -” she pointed at a semi-ajar door, “- that is my bedroom.” he nodded, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. he didn’t exactly feel out of place, instead, it was just a awkwardness in how to keep the conversation smooth, “you want anything to drink? i’ve got a couple beers in the fridge.” he smiled.

“what, ‘re ya tryna get me drunk?” she scoffed at the implication.

“off two beers? i know you won’t.” she’d observed that he had a solid tolerance after his many nights in the bar. though eddie knew she probably had to keep tabs on regulars to cut them off or anticipate bad behavior, but it still felt somewhat intimate that she knew that.

she knew that the only reason she knew that was because the one or two times he had gotten drunk, has been the only times he’d overtly flirted with her, his blurred boundaries making his mouth saying things his sober one would never, but that his sober brain was always thinking.

she procured a can from the fridge for him, as well as one for herself. passing it to him, he nodded gratefully, watching her with a little less shame than he usually did as she leaned back on the counter, her shirt riding up ever so slightly. her outfit was simple - comfortable - but the t-shirt-and-skirt combo was currently doing something for him that he didn’t really wish to admit.

she watched him watch her, not saying anything as she found the way he looked at her when he was oblivious of her own gaze to be marvelous.

“you’re not very subtle with that.” her voice is soft, and it seems to break him out of a trance.

“huh? with what?” she smirked at the shocked, oh-so-innocent look on his face.

“the sta-ring.” she says it in a sing-song tone, and it makes him go cherry. it’s almost comical - the sudden rush of blood to his cheeks, as he shakes his head adamantly.

“i don’t - i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“sure you don’t.” she took a long sip of her drink, wincing just slightly due to the acidic tinge of it, before smacking her lips, “but those nights at the hideout seem to tell a different story.” he narrowed his eyes at her, angling his body to face her as a devilish smile played on his lips.

“oh yeah? mind telling me it?” she had a similar cheeky smile on her face, as she licked her lips and averted her gaze to her can, feigning nonchalance.

“oh, you know. it can get kinda hard to do my work when one of my regulars is eye-fucking me the entire time.” he gulped as she turned to head to look at him again, her smirk goading a response.

“and - and why’s that?” his voice is a whisper now, knowing that this was his make or break moment. she moves closer to him, subtly, and before he can even think of anything else, her lips are under his.

“because it makes me wanna rip his clothes off on top of the bar.” his head spun at her blunt words, and his tongue’s tied. luckily, she takes the step he’s too scared to make, shifting forward and pulling him down lightly towards her.

for a moment, he’s still in shock, but he’s quick to reciprocate, pulling her hips into his as his lips hungrily chased hers. his wandering hands caused a squeak to emit from her, and she felt a smirk press against her skin.

she’s the first to break away, tracing her mouth from his semi-swollen lips down towards his neck. he squeezes at her hips, taking handfuls of her flesh and rolling it in his palms as she peppered featherweight presses over his throat.

“fuck me.”

“plan on it, handsome.” she mumbled it, and it tickled his skin. in also surprised her, as she suddenly felt something harden against her hip. she smiled, and he could feel it on his skin, so he pulled her lightly away from him.

“not on a kitchen counter, babe.” she pouted, but quickly retracted when she realized that instead of wanting to stop, he was cocking his head towards her bedroom. without a second thought, she grabs him by his shirt, taking him in tow to the room.

as she kicks the door shut behind them, he presses her back against it, kissing her with a newfound gusto, as his hands played at the hem of her shirt. tentatively, he trailed his hands up her stomach, causing goosebumps to erupt over the skin. the sensation makes her shiver, and her hands push onto his scalp tugging at his hair lightly - making him groan against her lips.

he hooks his fingers into the elastic of her skirt and, with a moment of hesitation, pulls away from her.

“can i-?” she nodded vigorously, her hands wrapping around his and encouraging him to push the garment off.

“please - please.” he doesn’t need anything more, pulling her skirt down so quickly that she stumbles as she tries to step out of it, he trails his fingers across her soft thighs, before quickly turning her around and helping - handling - her onto her bed. she pulls him down with her, his legs spreading and his knees kneeling around hers. he goes to kiss her again, but she stops him, instead urging him to take his shirt off. he’s quick to conform, pushing his shirt up, and she presses his shoulders back to admire his inked chest.

“ya like ‘em?” he watches her with endearment, as she traces the tattoos with a nail, and she hums in agreement.

“’ve always wanted one.”

“i’ll take you some day.” she looked up at him, shocked he was actually willing to pause and indulge in her feeble attempt in conversation. it made her smile, though, and she grabs his jaw, placing a softer, more tender kiss on him.

for a moment, there exists just that softness - that more gentle aspect of sex, the kind you would see between a loving couple - and, though she knows it’s just a casual hook-up, she decides to savor it for that moment.

it goes as quickly as it comes, though, as she can hear the distinct sound of a belt buckle unfastening. she looks up at him with hooded eyes, glancing down to see him unbuttoning his jeans and she, in turn, grabs her shirt and pulls it over her head.

he’s in his boxers, his jeans thrown into a corner, as she emerges from behind the cloth of her shirt. he reaches around her, unfastening her bra and allowing her tits freedom, watching with an salivating focus at the gentle bounce of them. she watches the hardened outline in his only remaining article of clothing, and she smirks at his breathy sigh when she gently cups him with one hand, her other hand lightly placed on his thigh.

“can i…?” she trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by the idea of speaking so vulgarly. on the other hand, he absolutely wasn’t, as he took a deep breath, smirking at her in a goading manner.

“can you… what, babe?” she averted her gaze for a moment, before looking up at him.

“can i suck you off?”

“fucking christ, do whatever you want to me, babe.” though he said it with so much conviction, his hand went to rest gently on her head, maintaining some control over her actions. she pushed his boxers down, her mouth opening in excitement upon seeing his cock. he took the complement of it, groaning with a playful smile, “don’t look at me like that - i won’t last.” deciding to put him out of his very visible, almost painfully hard misery, she gently stroked him, taking just his tip into her mouth. she looked up to see him biting his lip to restrain himself, and she took the challenge, pushing forward as far as she could. it took a couple attempts, with her bobbing her head slowly and with purpose, before her nose reached his base, the back of her throat already sore from the stretch. though, she’d gotten her wish, with him releasing a string of curses and praises and she kept her head in place, his entire cock behind her lips.

finally, she moved back, releasing him with a loud pop and taking a deep breath as she continued to stroked him with her hand. similarly, he was trying to keep his breath even, and pulled her hand off of him, pulling her up a little so that the were a little more level.

“tell me what you want to do.” he was at her beck and call - just grateful for the opportunity to see her beauty in such a raw, animalistic way.

“let me ride you?” her response is direct - honestly, it was a no-brainer, and, instead of answering, he adjusted to be resting against the headboard of her bed, beckoning her into his lap. she does just that, hovering over him for a moment as the both of them line her up with him. she sucks in a deep breath, before sliding down onto him.

“oh, fuck-!”

“oh my god.” they groan in unison, her taking a moment to adjust as she struggles for a moment or two to adjust to his size. he’s impatient, addicted to the way she feels around him, and he squeezes her ass to restrain himself.

finally, she gently raises her hips, sighing at the emptiness, before she pushed back down. a moan rumbled in the back of his throat, while high-pitched squeals escaped her, trying not to be loud, but struggling not to be as she rhythmically raised her hips up and pushed them back down on his cock.

after enjoying the show for a while - the warmth of her cunt, the slap of her ass on his thighs, the jiggle of her tits - he gripped her hips, seeing her legs quivering both at the exertions and sensations. he guided her, allowing her muscles to rest a little as he simply rolled her hips back and forth on him. at one point, he heard her moan come out in a garbled choke, and he realized that she was beginning to fall apart.

“you gonna cum?”

“can i?” his eyes rolled into his head at the knowledge that she was asking his fucking permission.

“fucking hell, babe, ‘re ya asking me? ‘course you can, baby, ‘course you can.” he stopped her hips for a moment, and she let out a whine, obviously going to ask why he’d stopped before, her voice is stopped - with her eyes widening and her mouth falling open. he kept her hips still, planting his feet and fucking into her with a vigor. her moans - loud and unashamed, sounded like music to his ears, and though it was physically exerting - the pleasure becoming too much for him as well - he kept his eyes open and his focus on her.

“’m gonna cum - ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, ed, fuck, please don’t stop, please-!” she can’t finish her sentence, falling limp into his chest as she came, her moans being muffled into the tattoo under his clavicle. her cunt pulsed around him, making his breathing pick up and his head fall back, his thrusts continuing languidly a few more times, before he lightly pulled her off of him.

even through her post-orgasm haze, she gripped his cock, stroking it slowly as he twitched in her palm, before he came, the liquid flowing into her hand.

“fuck, sorry, let me clean that-” she stops him by retracting her hand and placing her cum-soaked fingers into her mouth. he looks at her in awe, “christ, you’re perfect.” she smiles shyly at his comment, like it was off-hand and casual, like they didn’t literally just have sex.

they stay in her bed, the light mist of sex around them for a moment. it felt right.

she’d finally pulled off the bed, and suddenly felt the sticky liquid on her hand, sweat on her skin, the humidity in her hair. she’s not sure how to feel about it all, but she doesn’t have to think for very long, as she’s quick to get to the sink, wash her hands, and wipe her skin with a towel. as she glanced up, she saw the disarray of her make-up - her lipstick completely smudged and her mascara and eyeliner clumping to make dark stains around her eyes. she’s got reddened marks on the skin of her chest, but none of them look like their gonna last. she swipes at her make-up remover, going to clean her face and devoid it of its zombie-like appearance. she retrieves another cloth and dampens it once she’s finished, and she takes it out to eddie.

she tosses it at him as she begins to rummage through her drawers for something to sleep in, behind her, she hears a soft hum. she turns to face him again, and he looks a little embarrassed that she’d caught the noise. that only made her want to know the cause of the reaction even more.

“hey, stranger.” she jokes, commenting on his rather shocked countenance. he blinked at her.

“what?” she rolls her eyes, as if he was actually clueless.

“you’re looking at me like we’ve never met - were the past few hours a dream?” he lets out a breathy laugh at her comment.

“it’d have been one of my better ones.” she flushes at the complement, but doesn’t avert her gaze, prompting him to answer he question, “no, it’s really nothing. it’s just-” he pauses and she can feel her curiosity pique, “i guess i’ve never seen you without makeup on before.” her eyes widen a bit, suddenly heavily conscious of the natural state he was now witnessing her in. she gulps a little.

“yeah, i guess. are-” her voice cracks a bit, and she almost doesn’t know why, “are you okay with it?

his eyes widened as he went to clarify.

“no! no, i just meant that it’s different.” she raises an eyebrow, shocked by the vagueness of the comment. besides, ‘different’ usually had a negative connotation. he hits himself, realizing how bad he sounded, “good different, you look good, i-” he stops himself, shaking his head, and groans. she can feel a weight off her shoulders as his stuttering clarifies his feelings.

“thanks, ed.” she mumbles, walking back to the bed with an over-sized, plain shirt on. he grabs her waist as she nears, pulling her down into the sheets with him, making her squeak a bit in shock, as he angles her chin towards him, pressing soft, chaste kisses on her lips, and then her nose, and then her ears. he peppers them all over her face - and there’s no sexual connotation to them. as they drift away from her lips, she lets out a soft giggle.

“what’s this for?” he kisses her lips once again - deeply, sweetly.

“to convince you to say yes: will you let me take you out?” her eyes widen a little.

“out, on - on a date?” he nods against her, and she lets out a breathy laugh, “where’re we going?”

“wherever you want, babe.”

“sounds dangerous, ed. i’m not a great influence, y’know.”

“good.” they both laugh, and she can feel his fingers traces shapes into her arm, as her own trail through his hair.

“i’m hot-” he agrees immediately, and she smacks at him, laughing, “i’m hot, so let’s go get ice-cream.” he smiles.

“what a daredevil.”

“tell me about it.”

[tumbledfreckles]

Absolutely!

She should not be doing this. She knows she should not be doing this. She'd been warned against doing this.

But really, Quidditch practice ended half an hour ago. Surely he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

Hope this works! <33

This has not been edited, and it should have been edited, but screw it, I loved this prompt, I've stayed up way past bed time to write it, I wrote 1800 words instead of the 500 I planned, so have it in it's unedited glory and don't judge me too harshly. It's late, but its shirtless James Potter May or Jumpers off for June or really, just a thirst trap drabble to get your week going well.

Lily knocked softly on the door to the locker rooms, her breath caught in her throat, a thrum of anxiety running in her veins. When there was no sound, no answering call, no bid to enter, she paused for only moments, before biting her lip and pushing on the door handle.

She should not be doing this.

Her footsteps were quiet as she made her way down the long corridor that led to the locker rooms. Doors of the unoccupied rooms were shut, her finger tips dragged against the names of each team as she went. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and then finally, at the very end, Gryffindor. Unlike the others, this door was set slightly jar, light seen through the gaps, but no sounds emerged. The team had clearly departed.

She knows she should not be doing this.

Lily gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door, wide enough for her to slip through. It closed gently after her, allowing her to lean back against it, hands still caught on the handle behind her. She clutched the handle for dear life, knowing she should turn it and go back through. Knowing that to go further into the room was a boundary she shouldn’t cross.

She’d be warned against doing this.

As expected, the locker room was at least empty. She’d never been in here before, not being on the team, and never before having anyone she’d wanted to follow into the abyss. The reality was as bad as Lily had imagined. Likely due to the graces and actions of the house elves, it was cleaner than expected. There were no used towels piling around, no dirty, soiled uniforms discarded. The walls were filled with posters and pictures of Gryffindor Quidditch teams throughout the years. Banners and scarves lined the players' open lockers, caught on the name plates fastened above each one.

Almost as soon as she noted the name plates, her eyes caught on one in particular. A name that had fallen from her lips more often than her own had this year. A name that used to come out with derision, but was now pronounced with warmth, with feeling, with an unexplainable but inexplicable feeling of joy. The locker below it was the least orderly of them all, clothing still hung on the hooks, shoes and boots underneath the bench seat in front of it. Shin guards and pads and flying goggles still littered the bench and shelf.

The captain himself was nowhere to be found however. The sound of running water drew her attention to another doorway, at the far end of the locker room. Steam poured out of that room, leaving Lily in doubt that it was the way to the showers. Somewhere she definitely shouldn’t be going. She could wait out here for him. She only wanted to check on him, close the loop on their earlier conversation. She felt guilty for leaving him hanging, but that was no reason to follow him into the showers, surely.

But, really, Quidditch practise ended half an hour ago. Surely, he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

With that solid, solid reasoning ringing in her brain, spurring her on despite a wealth of misgivings, Lily moved forward. Her heart was racing but her movements somehow remained slow, cautious.

“Potter?” she called at the doorway.

No answer came.

Lily shook her head, cheeks already turning red as she contemplated her next action seconds before completing it.

She was only two steps in when she pulled up short.

James stood under the shower, mere metres from where Lily herself stood. A low wall hid most of his lower anatomy, but his back was on full display. Water ran in rivulets over strong, broad, tanned shoulders. It drained off his elbows as James reached to scrub at his hair, a movement Lily had seen him do a million times across their seven years of schooling, but never when he was wet. Certainly not when he was otherwise naked. His back arched, showing the muscles down his spine, lifting the beginnings of the curve of his arse into view.

“Fuck,” Lily whispered, her mouth having gone completely dry.

Of course, while he hadn’t heard her earlier call, he heard her quiet swear. Or maybe he’d felt the weight of her entranced, intoxicated stare. Before Lily could remove herself from a situation she definitely shouldn’t be in, even if it was the most beautiful site she’d seen all day, all week, all year, James turned.

“Lil- Evans,” he said in surprise, jumping slightly, before shutting off the water and reaching for the towel resting on the edge of the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth- shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”Lily started, taking a step back, only she missed the doorway and landed against the wall next to instead.

It really wasn’t her fault she couldn’t focus.

If James’ back with a gift of meticulously carved marble, smooth skin and muscle that Lily just wanted to sink her teeth into, then his front was a bloody work of art. Well defined pectorals sat prominently, on his chest, surrounded by curved shoulders, impressive biceps that helped his brilliant throws on the field. Pools of water had collected in the curve of his collarbones, enough that Lily could have lapped happily to ease her suddenly restricted throat.

She’d seen glimpses of his abdominals before. He was always reaching for his hair, running a hand through the beautiful, silky locks, she couldn’t help but get flashes as his shirt, or t-shirt, or jumper lifted up. Especially when he was already stretching back across the couch, complaining about the Prefect’s schedule, the points schedule, or the meeting schedule. Any schedule really, just because he knew it would rile her up. So she’d seen his stomach from time to time. Knew his prowess on the Pitch couldn’t come from someone who wasn’t totally fit. But seeing it glistening, rippling as he moved, shadows from the dimmed bathroom lighting emphasising each curve, well…

It was really more than one girl could be expected to take.

“Evans,” James tried again, frowning as he finished wrapping a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower area toward her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Lily tried not to focus on how the twisted knot of the towel sat dead centre below his navel. How it drew the eyeline down. How the muscles in his sides pointed down like an arrow toward that knot, making her wonder what was underneath the knot.

“Uh,” Lily forced her eyes up. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

She pretended not to notice how droplets collected on his eyelashes, so much easier to see without his glasses. How his face was devoid of its usual smirk, concern etched across his face instead, furrowing his brow, straightening his smile.

“Sure,” James glanced around, “I was coming back to the castle, you could have waited.”

“I couldn’t,” Lily blurted, before she could stop herself. “I couldn’t wait.”

James quirked an eyebrow, but paused in his steps, now less than three steps from her. At this distance, she could smell him. He was perfumed by that familiar scent of pine and spice, but in the heat and the humidity of the room it surrounded her, consumed her. She tried to take a deep breath in, to focus and prepare herself, but all it did was allow the scent to overwhelm her.

“Well, have at it, Evans,” he encouraged. “I’m listening.”

“Well, before, earlier.. You, uh… you asked, well and I, you, I didn’t,” Lily sighed impatiently at her stuttering, rolling her eyes before realising that meant she couldn’t look at him. Tried to remind herself not to look at him, it was clearly too much to look at such a sight and string a sentence together. Much more of her blithering and he wouldn’t care for what she had to say, mad woman that she was.

“Still waiting, Evans,” James teased now, a small curve of his lips appearing now. He seemed to be realising what had her in such a fluster, and took another step forward. Within reaching distance. Touching distance.

“Oh, fuck it,” Lily breathed, and gave in.

There was no resistance as she reached out and snagged James by the hand, then his waist, then his neck. She tugged his head down, and it came easily until, with a final push on her toes, she crashed her lips against his. His mouth moved without hesitation, giving as good as he got, pushing her back into the wall with a satisfying oof, his teeth finding her bottom lip, pulling it until her mouth opened and the punishing kiss turned into something deeper, sweeter, more satisfying.

Lily’s hands threaded into his hair, before dancing down to shoulders, stroking along his chest. She couldn’t pick a place she wanted them to rest, so she just didn’t, and touched and admired and petted to her heart’s content. James didn’t appear to mind her cheek was cupped, her waist wrapped up with one of those delicious arms she’d admired. He was still warm from the shower, still damp from neglecting to dry off, and she could feel that heat pushing through her clothes, flattening them against her, allowing his touch to burn through to her needy skin.

Without meaning too, having not consciously thought the action through, Lily’s hand landed on the knot in the towel she’d been so focused on moments earlier. The action gave them both reason to pause, and James pulled back just enough as they panted for breath and stared at each other.

She’d never seen his eyes so black, the hazel almost completely hidden dilated pupils and a blazing fire that would have taken her breath, if only his lips hadn’t done the job already. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Lily’s eyes followed the movement closely, her newly acquired knowledge of the feel, the taste of his tongue, making her imagine in a way that was all too real, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

“You had an answer for me, Evans?” his voice was hoarse, husky, like he’d run a marathon in the seconds, minutes, that they’d been kissing.

“I hardly think it matters now,” Lily’s laugh was almost bitter as it escaped from her, as she pushed back wet hair from his forehead, brushing her thumb softly across the scar above his eyebrow.

“Tell me anyway,” his fingers brushed down her arm, tipped her chin up, catching her lips again for a brief but perfect kiss.

Lily sighed, kissed him again to stall, cupped his face with both her hands to make sure he was paying attention. She was only going to say this once.

“Yes, I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend.”

[bakulova]

Resident Evil Characters w/ a chubby S/o

Alcina Dimitrescu: 

I think because of her chest size and her thickness she herself would be a little chubby. She’d probably have a belly love pouch . So she would definitely  understand you if you were insecure about your body. But I also think she would help you love your body like she love on yours. When you are feeling very insecure about your body she will make sure to comfort you by kissing you everywhere and I mean everywhere stomach, legs, anywhere your stretch marks reach. Also when you try to go on a diet she will support you all the way but when she starts to notice its taking a toll on you, she stops you. she doesn’t want you to get hurt. She panics anytime you do that, she can’t help it. She definitely scolds you and shows her vulnerability after scolding you. Tearing up and holding you in her arms is a must. After that you kinda use that as a motivation to love yourself more. 

She walks into you guys bedroom to which she finds you crying. Tissues spread all over the bed. You mid blow. She takes off her hat and her gloves. She sits in the side of the bed and worriedly holds your hand. “My dear? What’s wrong” Your head held down “Nothing” She moves closer and holds you face with her hands. “Clearly something is wrong” you try to move away, feeling ashamed. “No don’t move away from me love. Please tell me what is wrong?” you sigh and look her dead in the eye “Some maidens were talking about my eating habits and... my looks, wondering how I could be with someone so beautiful like you...” her heart almost burst with rage. Eyes in flames wanting find this maiden and kill them. “Who was it my dear?” she caresses your face with her thumbs. You weakly say “the one with a big birthmark under her left eye” Alcina immediately knew. Her daughters were always telling her about this maid doing something stupid but she was her favorite maid because she got the work done. I guess the praise got to her head. Time to take care of the problem but for now comforting you is the top priority. She climbs all the way in bed and tucks you in, getting comfortable. she sighs and smells in your scent. She kisses the top of your head and runs her hands through your hair. “Don’t worry love she’ll be taken care of by tonight. Pay no mind to what any maids in this castle have to say. You are the most beautiful person in the whole world, don’t let worthless beings make you think otherwise.” You smile and look up at her and nod becoming more comfortable and less sad. Alcina now feels successful in the comfort part now she needs to finish the rest. 

Bela Dimitrescu:

Now with Bela, seeing as she is calm/quiet and the sister with the brains. She would see your struggles and silently observe. She secretly follows where you go seeing how you act by yourself. When she sees you crying to yourself in front of the mirror is when she’s had enough observing and more action. she dissipates into flies and appears next’s to you in a flash. She holds you from behind and puts her head on your shoulder, staring at you intensely.

“What?” you whisper weakly while sniffling. “Why must you do this to yourself? you’re perfect my love.” “You think so but I don’t” you snap back. She sighs and turns you chubby cute face towards her. Looking at your cheeks pushing your lips up reminds her of a fish, a cute one at that. She softly grins and kisses your soft lips. “Don’t cry my love. All that matters is that I find you delicious and hopefully nobody else or they’re gone.” she widens her smile. You nod and notice the blood on her face and quickly look back at the mirror and gasp “Bela this is disgusting” you say while wiping it off frantically, she starts giggling.You turn around and wet the rag you were using and start cleaning her to rid of the blood. She backs you to the sink (btw your in the bathroom and the door was open prob should’ve mentioned that before but oh well) her arms on either side of you, towering over you, licking her lips. You gulp at her sudden change. She leans in and kisses you deeply to which takes you by surprise by the passion in it. She pulls away leaving you wanting more and says “Please don’t tear yourself down my love, you’re beautiful as is...” you nod “as long as you keep kissing me like that forever” you both laugh and she takes hold of your waist and takes you to her bedroom for proper cuddling. 

Cassandra Dimitrescu:

OK with Cassandra she’s kinda in the middle yk. She can be a sadist but also caring but in a ‘I don’t show you I like you but trust me I do’ . She keeps tabs in you during the day. Checking up on you to see what you’re doing before going back to doing her thing. Whenever catching you feeling insecure she makes sure to try her best at showing her affection for you. Feeding you extra, kissing you, forcing you to cuddle with her. She just wants you to go back to normal. She doesn’t like to see you vulnerable. I’d also say she struggles to comfort you considering she likes to just kill, torture and mock her victims everyday so comforting is a change.  

You were just simply sitting in the library reading while having hot chocolate considering how cold it was outside. Some maidens were cleaning the dust near you. You took a split look in case you were in the way and you couldn’t help but see how skinny and beautiful they were compare to yourself. You look back at your book trying not to tear up. You shake your head and close the book, leaving the hot chocolate not feeling confident to continue the day. Walking in the halls trying to keep yourself from crying. You suddenly hear flies buzzing, knowing already who it was you paused trying to stop the tears from getting ready to overflow. “Hello my prey~~” Cassandra hooks her left arm around you shoulders and whispers into your ear “whatcha doin?” You shake her off and run off hiccuping crying. It didn’t help because she just followed you all the way to the shared room. You collapsed onto the bed, face buried into the pillows. The fly buzzing returns as disappears just as quick  as it came. You continue crying for some time, so long you thought she was gone. You sit up and look around seeing that she was standing there frozen. You stare in confusion. She then makes eye contact and moves forward and takes her cloak off for more comfort and climbs on top of your legs and kisses you deeply it shocked you. She pushes you back onto the pillows and continues kissing you. Once she’s satisfied with the make-out session she pulls away to admire her work. “So hot seeing you under me all flustered like that” you look away “No I’m not” she tilts her head “I’m not hot” you say annoyed. She gives you a stank face “You ARE HOT” emphasis on hot. You roll your eyes and try to cover your face but she caught your hands right before. “Don’t I wanna see your sexy face” “ugh Cassandra enough” she pauses for a second still holding your hands. she squints her eyes at you then just plop on you with her 6′4 self. “shut up YOU ARE SEXY and HOT. YOU ARE ALL OF THE ABOVE DEAR” it was so amusing to you that you started laughing and trying to push her off but to no avail. she stayed until she felt like you were feeling better. she sits up and grins down at you. “feeling better?” she raises an eyebrow. she admires you out of breath and stares to thing on 18+ things and grins widely. “if not I have an idea” her hands start creeping up under your shirt and that’s where we move on folks.

Daniela Dimitrescu:

Now Daniela is delusional right? so I don’t think she would notice until a maiden or someone said something bad about you. she wouldn’t even notice when your in a bad mood. She kinda clings to you wherever you go so nobody says anything to your face. but you can feel the judgey gazes. They look at you in disgust but daniela doesn’t see them blinded by you and your beauty. After a while of you pushing her away constantly you blow up. 

“DANIELA STOP LEAVE ME ALONE” she stops trying to cuddle you and her attitude changes. “w-what?” your eyes widened “I’m so sorry” you back away from her and run away while she stays still frozen staring at where you once stood. Her sisters gather behind her “Dani what’s going on? what was that?” Bela asked. She shrugs and starts to tear up not expecting that. she swallows the lump growing in her throat and excuses herself following fast after you. she finds you sitting outside under the gazebo in the courtyard... in the cold . she wants to run after you she can’t. she tries banging on the window careful not to break it but you ignore it. She curses and looks around and sees a nearby maiden and tells her to go out there a tell your ass to come back in but to bring a blanket. The maid instantly complies grabbing the needed blanket and bravely walks out into the freezing cold to you. she wraps the blanket around you and persuades you to come inside. You come in and immediately gets swooped up and brought into a room. A very familiar room in fact. You try to disappear into the blanket but nonetheless its torn from you and there is Daniela looking like a kicked puppy. It makes you feel so guilty. She pulls you in and sighs turning into a sob. one hand cups your head and the other your back. You both just sit on the ground holding each other. It felt like eternity before either of you spoke. “I’m sorry” you both say at the same time. You both giggle. She continues “I’m sorry for pushing your buttons my dear” she pulls away and caresses the hair out of your face considering it was windy and gross outside. You tiredly smile “no no this was my fault I was insecure and then blew up on you and worried you like crazy.” she purses her lips “no I’m pretty sure this was my fault for not noticing” she makes a funny face which makes you smile “I love you so much Dani” she blushes “I love you too s/o”

Karl Heisenberg:

This man now was taken away from his family when he was a child so he never grew up with affection. I think he would struggle with comforting you at first but he definitely gets better because he doesn’t like when the only thing good in this shit hole is depressed.  So expect him to just glomp on you and stay there no matter what. With this he would be patient no matter what, you getting annoyed for him just staying there but you soon realize it’s just to make you feel better. Kisses and sweet nothings are a must. He encourages you and makes sure you know you are everything and more. 

You were out and about at the village collecting necessities for you both. A group of men started whispering amongst each other. You didn’t mind it at first and continued shopping until you noticed that they were everywhere you were. Following you with judging looks. You shiver feeling the daggers stabbing your back. You sigh just wanting to get this over. The men started to get more bold and getting up close and acting like they were looking at the items. In reality they were giving you side looks. You continued to ignore until a burly musty man growled and shouted “I don’t know why were taking so long to get to the point!” You stop and look at him afraid now really wishing that Karl was here. You start to shake by how nervous you were. I mean imagine a group of men circling you and shouting at you. The men start getting too close and grabbing you and yelling in your face. Profanities are thrown around, degrading you for being who you are, manhandling but it all stops when 3 lycans come from nowhere and start attacking the men. The big burly man who started it tried to fight but figured out he didn’t have the proper tool to kill the lycan so he dropped the stick and ran for his life only to be stopped by Karl himself with more lycans behind him waiting to kill. The man bows before Karl. Begging for his useless life. This man was far over the edge to be given mercy. You hurriedly run to Karl tears falling. “K-Karl” he signals for you to go behind him. You quickly comply lycans coming up to you and rubbing their heads under your hand to which you pet them to calm your shaking self. Karl makes some sort of signal to which the lycans stopped attacking the men and leaving. Other villagers stopped breathing and watch this all go down. A woman comes up “Please please please forgive my foolish husband please!” she starts begging like her pathetic husband.  Karl snorts looking at her “Your husband and his fuck buddies need to pay for starting shit my sweetheart.” the wife starts to cry and looks at you “please please stop him. PLEASE” she starts to rush towards you only for Karl push her back so she falls next to her husband. Karl starts sucking his teeth “see now you shouldn’t have done that” he turns and hold your shoulder and starts walking away lycans making a path for the both of you. Hammer on one shoulder you on the other. He lifts his hammer into the air and lycans starting howling?? and rush towards to villagers who screamed and run. You get one look back to see the man being mauled to death. “Keep looking forward darlin. You don’t need to see that” You nod and lean you head against him sniffling. Once back at the factory he throws the hammer somewhere and the basket of stuff you bought on a table. He picks you up with ease and rushes off to relax with you. You spent the rest of that night being loved on and speaking about anything other than that. “I will always protect you buttercup” he whispers are you slip into sleep. 

Donna Beneviento:

Ok so I don’t know much about Donna but I know she is a quiet, shy and seems to be pretty insecure about herself specifically her face hence the face cover. So you too are struggling to support each other. But also trying to the best of your abilities. Like making sure the other is not lacking in an everyday things. I see Angie also trying to keep the spirits up by joking around and pushing you guys to do more. Also I think Donna craves for touch but to shy to ask. When she’s feeling insecure Angie will make sure to tell you so then you can go and hug her and love you. When its you who’s feeling insecure she and Angie will put a little something together with the help from other dolls. She surprises you by shyly giving it to you and waiting for your reaction. 

Donna hands you a box, gift wrapped any everything. Lately you haven’t been feeling thee best but you continued living. You had looked in the mirror recently and just watched. The way you looked. Moving your stomach around to how you wished it looked and smiling when doing so but when you let go you stop smiling. That kind of feeling. You look at her confused to which she gestures for you to open it. You start unwrapping the gift and open the box to see 2 puppets. Cloth ones. They looked familiar? Then you turned them over and realized it was you too. A little Donna and Y/N. You giggle at how cute it was and also realized that they were holding hands and the puppets looked so peaceful and so happy. You looked up at Donna who was playing with her hands. You put down the dolls and giver her a big hug to which Angie and the other dolls start cheering because they had work so hard thinking and putting this gift together. You carefully lift Donna’s face cover and warmly smile. “Thank you my dear. I love them” she blushes and slowly works up the confidence to make eye contact with you. When she finally does she gives you a nervous but happy smile back. You cup her cute face and give her a kiss on the lips to which she returns quickly loving the affection. Once you pull away she hold onto your wrist not wanting to stop holding her face. “I’m glad you liked it love” and for the rest of the day was spent cuddling and doing things together with the puppets sitting on the middle of the bed. 

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Note: This was not edited yet so excuse me if there are any words missing in a sentence I tend to think faster than I can type. Also I hope you liked this and more coming soon!!

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Office Hours Part 2

Part 1 here

Thanks @shieldmaiden-of-gondor and @im-a-wonderling for making sure my fluff makes sense 😊

————————————

“Utterly hopeless. You are completely and utterly hopeless.”

Villain punctuated each word by banging his head on the table. When he finished his lament, he rested his head on the wood, dark hair falling haphazardly across his forehead.

Hero, sitting opposite him at the table in the private study room, also wanted to bang her head against the wood.

It was late. They’d been at this for hours. She wanted to scream in frustration.

Instead, she threw her pencil at Villain’s head.

His hand flew up, plucking the pencil from the air, and sending it back at her in one swift motion.

It nailed her in the shoulder, and she frowned at Villain as she rubbed the spot. He hadn’t even bothered to look up.

“You’re supposed to be helping me.”

He groaned. “Some things just can’t be helped.”

The metal pen on the table flew into the air with surprising speed, smacking into Villain’s shoulder before clattering to the floor.

He looked up then, raking his hair back off his forehead.

“You know, if you spent as much time studying as you did practicing your metallokinesis, you might actually pass this test.”

“I’m trying.” she snapped, eager to escape the dark-eyed scrutiny.

She frowned. Again. Trying to smother her embarrassment that Villain, of all people, knew how horribly inept she was.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t trying. It was just that Supervillain had been launching increasingly elaborate attacks each night. Then every time she studied, the concepts and numbers blurred together in her mind and she inevitably found herself waking up hours later with her face stuck to the pages of her textbook.

Villain was still looking at her, waiting for a response.

She swiped a hand across her bleary eyes and pink cheeks, wincing as her fingers brushed the large scrape on her left cheek.

A lucky blow from one of Supervillain’s droids had sent her careening into a brick wall last night, roughing up her face and arm in the process.

“What happened?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him looking at her injuries through narrowed eyes.

Her stomach fluttered, despite the fact that the concern in his voice was obviously manufactured to get her to let her guard down.

“Where do you think, genius?” Squashing the wretched butterflies dancing around her insides, she shot him a glare and stood to retrieve her pencil and pen.

She had to go around the table to get her pen, and as she crouched to retrieve it, Villain chuckled.

“You could just use your powers, you know.”

Her face heated and she jolted back up, pen flying into her hand with a bit too much force. Her heart pounded in her chest, intensifying the color in her cheeks.

As she turned to return to her seat, a cool hand closed loosely around her wrist.

Villain gently tugged her towards where he sat, grip loose enough she could have pulled away if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to.

Considering the fact his boss wanted her dead, that was probably a bad thing.

Villain didn’t seem to notice her internal dilemma as he brought her closer.

When she was standing right in front of him, he let go, long slender fingers moving from her wrist to the angry red scrapes that marked her arm from wrist to shoulder. His touch was light, barely a flutter against her skin.

“I’ve been wondering all night what happened.”

His voice was quiet. Soft.

Hero raised her eyebrows. Then why hadn’t he asked earlier?

She shrugged. “Just a droid, you know. Like always.”

Her breath caught as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, slowly turning it to get a better view of an angry red line that was deeper than the others.

“This isn’t from a droid.”

He was right. A droid would have ripped her arm off.

“Well, the droid may have had help from a brick wall.”

He winced in sympathy before looking up at her face, eyebrows scrunched together in concern as his fingers reached up towards her cheek.

He suddenly whirled to face the wall, hand falling away and his eyes narrowing as though he could see straight through it. Which, in a way, she guessed he could.

“Supervillain is coming. You should sit down.”

“He’s coming? Here? You told—”

Villain shook his head as he shooed her back to her seat. “I can sense him coming. He probably just has a question for me.”

Hero finally heeded Villain’s words and scrambled back around the table. Halfway there, she froze, pen slipping from her grasp.

Oh no.

Her heart leapt into her throat. “He’ll know it’s me! I have to go...” She reached to gather all the textbooks and papers spread across the table, but Villain appeared between her and the table.

“Calm down, Hero. He’s never seen your face without the mask.”

“It’s not about my face, Villain!” She gestured to the raw skin on her arm and cheek that had been too sensitive to bandage. “He saw me get thrown against the wall.”

Villain stiffened at her words, at the implication that these particular injuries labeled her as Hero just as effectively as her supersuit.

She tried to push past him.

“Wait. There’s no time.”

He grabbed the hem of his black hoodie and yanked it off in one swift motion.

Before she could comprehend his action, he was pulling the soft material down over her head.

“Arms in.”

She numbly obeyed, goosebumps springing up at his closeness, despite the warmth of the fleece.

“We can’t put the hood up, it would be too suspicious.” His words were muttered under his breath, and she wasn’t sure if she was meant to respond. She froze as his hands came around her, pulling the elastic from her hair.

He quickly ran his fingers through the blonde strands, pulling them forward to frame her face. She shivered as his knuckles brushed against her skin, and he pulled back.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

She hadn’t even realized it had been her injured cheek.

“It’s fine!” She said quickly, pulling at the strands herself. “Is this good?”

His lips were a tight line as he shook his head. “It’s still too obvious...”

His eyes shuttered closed for a moment, then flew open. “He’s almost here!”

Hero started, eyes leaping around the small room. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

Supervillain was known as the ‘friendly professor’ for a reason. He could chat the ear off an elephant. There was no way she could keep her head turned away the entire time he—

Villain was suddenly standing right there, and there was something wild in his eyes.

“I have an idea. You’re not going to like it.”

His head was tilted down towards hers, inches away.

His eyes were green.

She’d thought them black but...

Strong hands were suddenly at her waist, spinning her around and lifting her up onto the edge of the table, her back to the door.

She gasped, eyes going wide.

Villain raised an eyebrow in question.

She knew what he was asking; would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined what it would feel like to...

Her eyes darted to his lips, which had quirked up into a smirk at the expression on her face as if to say, ‘I guess that answers that question.’

The doorknob jangled, and his hand slid around her back, pulling her against him as his lips crashed into hers.

Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck as he leaned forward, the fingers splayed across her back sending warm shivers across her skin.

Her leg wrapped around him and she heard his breath hitch as his warm lips moved against hers.

His other hand slid under her hair, coming to rest softly against her injured cheek, hiding it from view as the door swung open.

Hero’s arms fell away at the low chuckle behind her, but Villain simply pulled her more tightly against him. He pressed a final, slow kiss to her lips before straightening, slightly breathless.

His hands stayed though, subtly pushing her towards him as he smiled nonchalantly over her shoulder at the open door.

“Good evening, Professor.”

“Mr. Hammond.”

The voice sent fear snaking down Hero’s spine, and she buried her face in Villain’s green T-shirt, her trembling fingers grasping the fabric.

“I assume you are clocked in and getting paid for the work you do in office hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hero braced herself for a tirade from Supervillain, but instead she could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

“Good.”

A long pause.

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

His voice was calm but Hero could feel the tension running through him.

“I had a question about our latest project, but seeing as you are... otherwise occupied... it can wait until morning.”

Her face, still buried in the dark green fabric, burned at the implication, but she felt Villain release a tiny sigh of relief.

“I’ll be at your office at 8am.”

“Good, good. I’ll just leave you to it then…”

Hero breathed a silent sigh of relief as she heard Supervillain’s hand grasp the doorknob. But she didn’t hear it close.

“Say, you look familiar, young lady…” Panic surged through her veins as his non-question hung in the air, and Hero’s hands clutched Villain’s shirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Villain chuckled softly. “She’s in your class, so you’ll have to forgive her for being embarrassed about the way you found out about our... relationship.”

How did he sound so calm??

Also—Relationship???

Villain’s fingers slid back to her cheek, encouraging her to lift her head while covering her injury.

“It’s alright, love,” Her heart skipped at the endearment, and she had to remind herself it was an act. “He doesn’t bite.”

No, but he would gladly murder her if he knew who she was.

She slowly lifted her head, turning her good cheek towards Supervillain and his knowing grin.

“And what’s your name, lucky one?”

“Addie.” Her voice came out a strangled whisper, but Supervillain seemed to find it funny rather than suspicious.

“Well, Miss Addie, I guess if you do poorly on this midterm, I’ll know who to blame.”

And with a small wink at Villain, he slipped out, closing the door firmly behind him.

[wdwmarveldisney]

🥺👉👈 Could I maybe request a doctor who x reader with a younger, more innocent teenage reader? And the doctor gets protective over them, especially when they could be in danger. Any doctor could fit. (sorry if this is not enough information I'm new to making requests)

Let them go

Eleventh Doctor x platonic!teen!reader

Summary: When the Doctor takes you to your favourite musical, things once again don’t end well.

Masterlist

A/N: Ok so I loved this request and thank you so much. You are so sweet. Don’t worry about how information there is, I just hope that you like it. I may have mixed a little Newsies in here because, well I love it and I honestly think about how I would a hundred percent ask to go there if I was travelling with the Doctor.

Not my GIF

Shaking violently when travelling seemed to be the only flaw of the TARDIS and even then, it was only because the Doctor was a terrible pilot. He had tried to convince you otherwise but you'd met River on more than one occasion and she had actual evidence for her argument so excuse you if you sided with her. But that didn't mean that you hated it; every time it happened, you'd grin real big because it was just yet another reminder of the chaos that came with the Doctor. You had a usual place by the controls, one where you were often moved from during flight to avoid you being in the way. Most of the time you ended up in one of the seats, watching his every move in hopes of learning what any of it meant. River had promised to teach you when you were older, said you could leave the Doctor in the 1920s where he apparently thrived and she'd teach you how to the drive the TARDIS.

Right now however, you were here in 2017 New York, at your request. You had asked to see the recording of Newsies after a small (ok so maybe the exact opposite of small) obsession with the musical over the years. You were surprised when all the Doctor had to do was make a call and suddenly you were right at the front with the opportunity to go backstage afterwards too. The inner fangirl was hard to control as the two of you headed to the doors and you managed to stumble slightly but he had caught you before you could fall into the wooden doors. Pouting as he laughed, you tugged his bow tie hard making him stop with a frown and a hand going to readjust it. He scanned your attire with an amused smile which resulted in a flick to the head from you. "Ow, I didn't say anything!"

You walked out the TARDIS, breathing in the smell of hotdogs and petrol before facing him with a small frown, "You were thinking it. I can wear a Newsies shirt if I want to wear a Newsies shirt," he put his hands up in surrender as he walked out too and then quickly turned to lock the doors. You tugged at the shirt in question as you glanced round the empty alley, waiting for him. It was a few seconds before you felt an arm fall into your shoulders and quickly you began to walk to the streets with big smiles on your faces. In the small time you had come to know the Doctor, he had become like family. You had been quite sheltered growing up, never seen much trouble but that's kinda expected from a small town family. When you started travelling with the TimeLord, you saw a lot of bad stuff, things you had never even thought possible and so naturally, he was protective. He was like an older brother, maybe a dad ish vibe.

Your steps were in time with his as you approached the theatre, huffing at how long the queue to get in was. Finally in line, you tapped your foot patiently and suddenly, the question had slipped from your lips without much thought, "How did you get good tickets?" He paused, reaching up to fiddle with his bow tie nervously before straightening out his tweed jacket. He avoided eye contact and instead stared at the bright lights surrounding you guys, "Well, um, I helped write it. Historical facts and stuff," you watched him shrug with terribly faked nonchalance. Jaw dropping, your eyes went comically wide as you stuttered out, "You- They- What?" Unbelievable. Of course he knew about your obsession with the musical and failed to mention his involvement with writing it.

It was a couple hours later and you were waiting by the Doctor's side as the theatre cleared out. He had spent the whole musical jittery and chatty, clearly not good with just sitting there and watching. Several times someone had complained and you had had to talk with him about it. He was a literal child at times. But despite the fact he had muttered about his hate for Twitter after the girl next to you guys tweeted a picture of herself and her friend there, you enjoyed yourself. The musical was just as great as the first time you watched the recording, if not better. And now, you couldn't stop bouncing in excitement. You were actually going backstage, and you were going to meet the cast of a musical you have obsessed over for years.

But of course, with the Doctor, things never happened that easily.

The TimeLord had pulled out his sonic screwdriver to fiddle with while you waited and frowned at the noise it made. You caught his muttering and huffed, already knowing that look on his face. Concern, anger and a touch of excitement. "Don't say it," his eyes slowly left the device in his hands as he raised an eyebrow at your words. Someone was just leaving the backstage area but neither of you noticed as you sighed, "Why does something always have to happen? One good, non-alien day is all I ask. Is that even possible with you?" He grinned goofily at you with a breathy chuckle before raising the screwdriver in the air and scanning your surroundings. You jumped at the tap on your shoulder, facing the crew member with fists raised like that would do something. "Oh,"

"I was sent to get you. What's he doing?" You glanced to the Doctor, who now stood on one of the seats and you shrugged, arms crossing over his chest. Looking between both men, eventually you answered, "I find it best not to ask until he gets that look on his face," the guy frowned as he watched the Doctor jump from the seat and run up an aisle and look through one of the doors. As the two of you watched him lock the door with the screwdriver, the crew guy asked, "What look?" Going to respond, you stopped yourself once seeing the dark look of his face. The one that ensured mortal danger and most likely ended with the two of you saving the world. Again.

"That look," the guy watched you point to the alien as he made his way over to you by jumping over one of the seats. His arm landed on your shoulders as he huffed slightly from all the running round, "Right okay then, possible shapeshifter, very dangerous and kills for the hell of it. Also, amazing dancers and have a tendency to be really funny. Ready?" As he spoke, he looked the guy up and down in a calculating way as if he was possible suspect. You ignored the shock and fear on the guy's face in front of you and instead tilted your head in debate, "I mean, yeah sure," with a laugh, he clapped his hands together and approached the crew member. He too ignored the expression or he just didn't notice with how quickly his mind was now working. He smiled, hands clasped in front of him as he did another look over the guy before speaking, "Ok, we're ready to go. Should probably check out backstage first," he looked to you and you nodded in agreement. "Well," he paused as he placed his hands on the guy's shoulder, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Panicky look still clearly painted on his features, his voice shook as he managed, "Carl,"

"Well Carl, lead the way," gripping the clipboard in his hands tighter, Carl turned around and began to walk up the stairs and backstage with the two of you following. You stared at your feet as you walked, pout on your lips as you thought, "So, when you say very dangerous...?" The Doctor paused before backtrack king to you and placing his hands on your shoulders whilst ducking his head down to meet your eyes. He had such certainty and determination that you knew he wasn't lying when he said, "Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise," a chuckle left your lips as you punched his shoulder, smile lighting up your face as he remained unbelievably serious, "Well duh. I've got my own hero. And you know I'd haunt the hell out of you," he shook his head, smile fighting it's way to his face as the two of you began to walk behind the curtain.

-

So apparently the Doctor isn't great with promises or at least, that's what you gather when the two of you were walking down a deserted corridor and something had grabbed you from behind. The last hour had been the two of you searching in the dark, trusting no one since this alien shapeshifted. Two crew members were found dead and another missing so the Doctor insisted on going to find her and well, naturally you followed without question. And now you had a claw to your throat as you whimpered at how hard the alien was pulling your hair. This made the Doctor turn, eyes darkening when he saw you struggling and crying quietly to yourself. "Let them go," it was practically a whisper but it echoed in the hall, making the creature laugh. "Why would I do that?" The voice was deep and distorted and almost robotic, "They'll be so much fun," the last word was spat, venom in the voice making whimper again. You shook violently and the Doctor met your terrified eyes with his remorseless ones. "Why are you here? Order the Shadow Proclamation states Earth is a Level five planet. Do you know what they'd do to you?" He took a few taunting steps forward, head almost bowed in anger.

A small scream left your lips as the claw made a small cut in your throat and the Doctor seemed to tense. Rolling out his shoulders, the TimeLord uncharacteristically smirked as his fingers toyed with the screwdriver in his hands and he laughed almost hollowly, "I know about your people. I have fought your people time again and again and again. And do you want to know what I remember?" There was a pause in his words, only audible thing being your small cries, "You really don't like high frequencies," he raised an eyebrow as he pressed a button and the alien began to freak. His hands slammed over his ears and he stumbled back, essentially freeing you. You managed to make your way to a worried and panicking Doctor before the two of you rushed down the hall and inside a changing room. You fell back against the door as the whir of the screwdriver and the click of the lock and the huffs of your breaths filled the room.

Suddenly the small device was stuck in your face, scanning you up and down before you smacked it away. He gave you a pointed look before carrying on, no doubt scanning for any other type of harm. He was in protective mode which wasn't uncommon but could get annoying when he wouldn't stop checking up on you. With a frustrated expression, you snatched the screwdriver from his hands and shook your head when your eyes met, “I’m fine,” you made sure to emphasise the last word and the Doctor mimicked you under his breath like a three year old. Scoffing, you pointed the screwdriver at him in warning but he just simply took it back with a small huff.

And then there was a bang at the door and the two of you were reminded of the danger you were facing this time round.

[lottiebagley]

Pumpkin- Fred Weasley

We're heavy liftin' but we're feelin' fine We think it's funny when we look at the time I know co-dependency has dragged me out But I really don't think that's what this is about

The group of sixth year Gryffindor students sit around under a tree by the black lake waiting for the arrival of their friend. Y/N Malfoy was quite similar to her family in most ways, ambitious, cunning, loyal and scheming, admittedly also a little bitchy with a flare for the dramatic. The difference being important though, she used all of these skills for good. Surrounding herself in a group of Gryffindor's despite being Slytherin simply because they made her laugh, she had never cared over blood or house supremacy and it drove her father mad, her mother to worry constantly and her younger brother to quietly admire her, although he'd be caught dead before saying it.

"Here she is," Lee grins widely watching the girl approach

"You're late," Fred comments, a smirk on his face and teasing lilt to his voice

"Can it Pumpkin,"

"Okay that joke has never and will never be funny," He groans as she drops to the ground next to her friends, fanning her face from the summer heat as she lays in the warmth, her shorts and top showing more skin than her family would approve of.

"Whatever you say Pumpkin," She grins, reaching her hand up to pat Fred's cheek as he leans his back against the tree.

"Why are you late?" Angelina questions, her head in her boyfriends lap. She laughs loudly when the girl says nothing simply smirks.

"Seriously? Again?" Alicia questions, laughter in her voice

"Wait! What don't we know?" Fred pouts dramatically, pushing himself up from the tree. His feelings for the girl glaring brightly. He may as well have a bright flashing sign pointing to him that says he's head over heels for his best friend who doesn't believe in love.

"There's no we. Just you I'm afraid," Lee smirks, Fred's heart sinks a little when he notices his twin brother sympathetic smile.

"Our little golden child-" Angelina starts

"She has never been a golden child," Lee interrupts

"Shut up. Our little golden child has been sleeping with Adrian Pucey," Angelina grins.

Fred feels his heart drop to his feet. Splintering into 1000 pieces.

"Merlin, your parents would approve," he comments, feeling the eyes on him waiting for a response

"They won't need to. It's just casual sex," she shrugs. She isn't sure why she feels such an urgency to make sure Fred knows it's not serious. Sure, he flirts with her but she always kind of assumed it was a joke, so of course it wasn't the guilt making her want to scream at him that she was still single. It wasn't feelings either. There's no point in feelings.

"I wish I could do that," Alicia sighs wistfully, Fred glad the attention is off him "Just have casual sex, flings that mean nothing. I get so attached so quickly," she rambles before turning her head to face her friend, who is eyeing Fred with suspicion, trying to work out if he's just tired or if he's upset.  "How d'you do it?"

"It's simple Li, there's no point in catching feelings. Love is treated like some inevitable thing that happens to everyone but it's not. I won't ever fall in love. Most people don't. Boys are going to hurt you time and time again so there's no point investing your happiness in them. The new relationship glow dies and you end up alone. Embrace the fact you've only got you to count on and life becomes easier," She explains

"How can you know someone isn't going to just come in and sweep you off your feet?" George questions, eyes flickering between the girl talking and his brother who is staring into space almost like he's trying to block out whatever the girl is saying.

"Life just doesn't work like that,"

I wanna give it all, I know I will 'Cause blueberry eyes seem to make time still We can boogie in the sunshine with some Burt's Bees And I know you like to pull the leaves off trees

"Thought love was stupid and pointless and made up," Fred quips, his voice in her ear making her jump in the otherwise empty corridor, taken by surprise at his presence.

"Shit!" she shrieks, hand swatting him away from her "You know most people say hello Pumpkin," she adds

"Hi darling," He grins

"Hi," she responds with a smile, not sure why she's blushing a little

"Back to my point about love,"

"You never actually made it," She retorts, eyes shining in the moonlit corridor

"Are you not on your way back from a secret meeting with one Adrian Pucey?" He questions, beginning to walk in the direction of the Slytherin common room, making sure to slow his steps down a little on regards of her much shorter legs.

"And if I am?"

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with him recently is all," Fred comments. Eyes focused on her as she quiets for a moment thinking.

"He's not the worst person to be around," She shrugs, he hums in response. He isn't sure what to say. He expected her to shoot down his accusation but instead she had admitted to liking Adrian.

"Why are you up so late and lurking near the Slytherin commons?" she questions, expecting an elaborate prank to be explained.

"Someone had to make sure you made it to bed safely," He shrugs, she hopes in the dark he won't see her blush, although he can and it makes his heart skip a beat.

"Pumpkin, anyone would think you care," She teases gently

"I do. In fact I care more about you than anyone else I know," He admits, his sincerity and vulnerability a change to their usual playful tone.

"I feel the same for you," She admits as they come to a stop outside the Slytherin common room.

"You sure do know how to make a guy feel special," He smirks, leaning against the wall next to the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"I think love is stupid and fake and I don't believe in the whole one true love, soulmate bullshit," She announces, a look in her eyes that Fred has never seen before as she stares up at him.

"I know that," He smiles gently, enjoying the way she's standing a little too close for just friends.

"I'm difficult and tricky and emotionally unavailable and I'm a stupid person to have feelings for,"

"I know that," He smirks widely

"I'm sensitive and if this is all some joke-"

"What's this?" He questions, a cocky grin on his face and an eyebrow raises. She sighs

"This!" She exclaims, gesturing between them "You treating me special and flirting and walking me to all my classes and back to my common room every night and carrying my bag and-" She begins to ramble

"No joke," He assures, hands held up in surrender

"I don't believe in love and I think feelings are stupid,"

"You've mentioned,"

"But, you should know that if anyone were going to change that it would not be Adrian Pucey,"

"Are you saying it would be me, sweetheart?"

"Don't get too cocky pumpkin," She smirks, before turning away from him and slipping into her common room, leaving Fred stood in the corridor with a lovestruck grin on his face.

I used to think that Romeo was full of shit And the Notebook was just my favourite chick flick But now I get why Sarah was so hard to forget It's this feeling that I'm feeling like Nemo in a net

She sits next to Alicia in the Room of Requirement, patiently awaiting the boys as they mingle with the other party goers.  Sipping on their drinks and talking over the loud music.

"Are you staring at Fred?" Alicia questions, eyes following where she's staring off into the distance. Fred is standing with a cup in each hand. One that he regularly raises to his mouth as he laughs with a few Hufflepuff boys. The other that he holds from the top, hand easily large enough to cover the whole top, although he continuously glances down to check there's no opening. He looks good, his height meaning he's a head taller than the other boys, his white shirt slightly too tight meaning his muscles bulge in it.

"Hmm?" She questions, forcing her eyes away from the boy, glad he hadn't caught onto her staring

"Oh my god! You were!" Alicia cheers

"I was?"

"Staring at Fred all gooey eyed and lovestruck. Can't say I'm surprised there's been way too much sexual tension between you two for like ever,"

"I wasn't. I was simply looking at him cause he said he'd bring me another drink and I'm nearly out," She retaliates, Alicia looks at her questioningly for a second, but after glancing at her nearly empty cup seems to believe it. She'd probably have questioned it more if Angelina hadn't arrived, taking the empty seat next to the girl.

"How's Adrian?" Angelina smirks widely from behind her cup

"Uh, I wouldn't know," She admits, adjusting her short black dress a little

"What? You had one of the best looking boys in school for casual, steamy sex and you ended it?" Alicia gasps, looking at the girl in front of her like she's insane

"There was nothing to end," The girls shrugs, taking a chug of her drink, emptying the glass and placing it down.

"Why the fuck would you stop sleeping with him? He's fit," Angelina  pesters, she's saved from having to come up with a lie when Fred arrives in front of the girls, offering the drink he's been protecting with his hand to her.

"Chug that and come dance with me," He demands, she raises her eyebrow at him

"Friends can dance together y'know?" He smirks widely, the line between friends and more seeming to fade and darken back and forth constantly between them.

"To friends then Pumpkin," She smirks, accepting the cup and chugging the alcohol despite the slight burn in her throat.

"M'Lady," He grins, offering a hand that she takes whilst rolling her eyes, allowing him to pull her away from the girls.

"That is why you stop sleeping with a boy as fit as Adrian Pucey," Alicia smirks to Angelina who laughs at the comment.

"Spoilt for choice," Angelina chimes

Pumpkin, pumpkin You're gonna kill me Pumpkin, pumpkin La, la la la la, la Pumpkin, pumpkin I need you to feel me Pumpkin, pumpkin La, la la la la, la

"You know darling, people might think you like me," He whispers into her ear, hot breath sending a small shiver down her spine that makes smirk grow wider.

"People should keep their noses out," She responds, spinning to face him.

Her chest flush to his, her hands finding place on his shoulders as she moves her hips against him. Practically grinding to the music playing through the party.

"I like this dress," He compliments, eyes raking her up and down with dark eyes, hands trailing up and down her body

"Take your hand of my arse Pumpkin," She smirks, although she says nothing else when he doesn't, the warning more a habit than her actually caring

"You brother is watching us," Fred comments, focusing on not letting his eyes drop to the curve of her breasts that are pushed up, practically spilling from the little black dress

"Father will be happy to hear all about this," She smirks, earning a chuckle from Fred

"You not worried about it?" He questions, ignoring the weird need in his chest to place kisses to her neck, wanting more than a little to mark her up.

"I've been disappointing him long enough," She shrugs, one hand dropping from around his shoulder to trail down his chest, unable to stop herself from wanting to feel the toned muscles under the shirt

"Ever the bad girl," He smirks, a feeling of pride in his chest when he notices her eyes darken a little.

"That's low," She comments with a smirk "Besides father knows we are friends and this is a friendly dance," She adds, turning back around to press her back to his chest, rolling her hips to push her arse into him.

"I certainly hope you don't dance with all your friends like this," He smirks, leaning down a little, a tight grip on her hips, dictating the speed of her teasing movements.

"Only my favourites," She grins.

Fred is glad she's not facing him or he's pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from kissing her.

We're cruisin' slowly but we're movin' fast We both decided to thank our past We've got a hundred lists of things we wanna do But I'm also cool just doin' nothin' with you

When Fred had bid her goodbye for the summer his heart and stung a little. He hated not being able to see her over the holidays. He hated that Adrian Pucey would be around all the time due to their families friendship. He hated that although she acted like it didn't her father's constant criticism hurt her.

It was because of the very last reason that when they were in third year George had scribbled their address onto a piece of parchment and given it to her with a smile and a whisper of 'if you need us we would love to see you'.  She'd never used the paper before. Writing to the twins and their friends, and holding out through the summer. She'd kept the paper though, tucked in between an old fairytale book in her bedroom.

Standing at 7:30 in the morning on the doorstep to the burrow, school trunk in tow and eyes sore from crying she wondered if the offer had long since expired.

Molly Weasley knew of her. She knew that the Malfoy's had a daughter and assumed she'd be as stuck up and rude as the best. Then her boys came home after their first term talking with bright smile and enthusiasm of their new friend and she was shocked when over and over again the name Y/N Malfoy was in the stories. By the end of their first year, with their letters and excited chatter she'd grown to know the girl was nothing like her family, instead she was a friend of her twins and by default Molly loved the girl, happy to see her boys happy. By Christmas of third years she realised that George loved the girl like a sister and Fred loved her as a lot more.

Despite all of this she'd never spoken to the girl. The Malfoy's whisking her away from her friends at the train station before she could even say 'goodbye' with cold eyes and snarls. Therefore she was more than surprised to pull the door open and see her with blotchy tear stained skin and silk pj shorts, a sweater she knit herself with a large 'F' on the front almost drowning her.

"Hi deary," Molly smiles gently

"I'm so sorry to intrude-I-it- I couldn't be there any longer. The boys said years ago I could come here if I ever needed and-I- I'm sorry that was years ago and the offer is way past expired- Sorry to bother you, this was stupid. I'll just be going," She rambles, cutting herself off and hiccuping the words out.

"You'll do no such thing. Come in," Molly instructs, pulling the door wider to allow her to come in. She smiles gratefully, grabbing her trunk and tugging it behind her into the house.

She looks around and can't help the small smile. The house is more of a home then any she'd ever been in before. Lived in and warm and bright and she could feel the love radiating through it. It made perfect sense that the twins grew up here.

"Leave your bag by the door. One of the twins can carry it up later. Take a seat while I make breakfast and let's, you and I, have a chat. I'm afraid the twins won't be up for hours," Molly offers. The girl nods, shooting her a smile and sitting down.

"Tea?" Molly questions

"Please," She responds almost timidly, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her jumper trying to dry the dampness. Molly nods, sending the girl a gentle smile and flicking her wand, the pots jumping into action making the tea.

"Now, dear, do you want to talk about it?" Molly asks gently

"No. Sorry. I just need to process," She admits

"It's no worry, you just make sure not to keep it all bottled up. Whenever you are ready we are all here for you, you can stay as long as you like, alright?"

"Thank you Mrs Weasley,"

"Please dear, call me Molly,"

"Molly," The girl nods, taking the tea she is offered with a thanks.

"Now, do your parents know you're here?"

"No, I left late last night. Father and I argued and I went up stairs and packed and just kinda," she trails off

"Left in the middle of the night with no explanation," it's Ginny's voice that speaks from behind her.

"Hey Ginny," The girl grins, jumping up to hug the younger girl who happily returns it. The Weasley kid's all liked her having had her company forced on them by the twins at school.

"Hey, Fred's going to be so happy to see you," Ginny smirks, laughing when the girl blushes, eyes staring down to not look at Molly who is smiling widely.

"You need to let your parents know you are safe," Molly instructs as the two girls sit down.

"They won't care," She shrugs, Molly's motherly glare quickly shot at her "but I'll let them know," She assures

"How'd you even get here?" Ginny questions

"The knight bus,"

By the time the girls have had breakfast and caught up it's 9AM and the both Harry and Ron arrive in the kitchen, greeting the newest addition to the home with a hug and teases of Fred's excitement. By 10AM George has arrived downstairs, elated to see one of his best friends, pulling her into a tight bear hug before ruffling her hair.

George and her are sprawled out in the garden, backs in the grass, both clad in pjs, easy conversation flowing and her feeling 1000 times happier than she did that morning by 11AM

"Merlin, Georgie, we are supposed to be working on puking pastilles and you're lounging about in the garden," Fred's voice shouts, leaning out of his window, to see his twin, not yet seeing the girl who is leaning against the wall, out of his eye line.

"I'm entertaining our guest!" George quips

"Guest? Is this you weird way of saying we have to de-gnome the garden again?"

"No. But we do need to," George responds

"Hey Pumpkin," The girl calls out, shuffling to be next to George and in Fred's eye sight.

Fred's face is overtaken by a wide grin, almost instantly he's out of the window, sprinting down the stairs and hurtling into the garden.

She jogs to meet him, laughing when he lifts her into the air spins her around, her legs wrapping around his waist as she grins down at him.

"Merlin, I missed you,"

"I missed you too. A lot," She admits, hating the way her heart is hammering in her chest.

"What're you doing here?" He asks, concern over taking his features, his hands still gripping her tightly as he holds her up

"I really don't want to talk about it yet," She admits

"But you're okay?"

"I am now," She assures, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and smirking when he blushes.

"Merlin, it was two weeks not two years," George comments, breaking the moment up now he feels he's given them enough time.

Fred sighs, wishing he'd had the nerve to just kiss her like he so badly wanted to but nervous how she'd react, the though of ruining their friendship striking fear in his heart.

He places her down delicately and insists on giving her a tour of the house, Molly watches with a fond smile at the way her son can't stop grinning all day.

I ran in circles on a Monday night You had to go so you could make your flight I looked at my mom and said, "What do I do?" She said, "This look is somethin' and it's new and true"

"You seem to really like her," Molly pesters, a week and a half into her stay. She's washing the breakfast dishes as Fred dries them. She knows immediately he wants to talk about it, her son only ever helps with house work when he wants his mother's advice and is too shy to ask.

"I do," Fred confirms, watching through the window.

The group were heading to a nearby lake and she's standing in the garden with Ginny, clad in a bikini she'd borrowed from the younger girl and a pair of shorts and carrying a towel. Sunglasses pushing her hair back and laughing at something the younger girl said, the two seemingly closer by the day.

The sight of her in just a bikini had made Fred's heart stop. She had barged into the twin's bedroom in the search for suncream Ginny had leant them and Fred had struggled to put words together as George smirked watching the interaction.

"She likes you too, I can tell," Molly prompts, wondering what the problem was.

"I know, well I kinda figured. She's just complicated. None of us know why but she's an utter cynic. She doesn't believe in love, she doesn't have any interest in dating or marriage or any of that. She has is in her head every guy she lets herself like will end up hurting her," Fred explains

"That kind of thing is normally past hurt,"

"She's never been in a relationship," Fred counters

"Okay, well in that case it's highly likely it's a childhood thing,"

"You mean?"

"Her family is very traditional. She might not have grown up seeing healthy, loving relationships," Molly explains gently

"So, what do I do?"

"You prove you're different. You prove you are worth the risk," Molly explains. Fred nods, setting his tea towel down despite being no where near done with the dishes.

"Thanks mum," He grins, Molly smiles, watching her son head towards the door

"Take a shirt so your shoulders don't burn!" She calls but Fred is out the door before she can finish the sentence.

"Took your time!" Ron calls, standing up from where he, George and Harry had all been sat waiting

"Just cause some of actually help mum," Fred quips, ignoring his brothers as they all begin the 10 minute walk to the lake. George challenging Ron to a race. Ginny talking awkwardly to Harry, her crush evident.

Fred is no better than his younger sister, falling into step next to her.

"Surprised you aren't racing," She comments

"Bored of beating them," he smirks cockily "Besides, talking with a beautiful girl such as yourself is much more fun," He adds, proud when she giggles.

"You're in good shape," She comments, eyes flickering over his body, clad in only swim shorts, his toned chest and muscular arms on full show. She laughs a little when he blushes bright red. "Not so slick now are we Pumpkin?" She smirks

"Pumpkin still isn't funny," He attempts, the bright red flush still on his cheeks doing little to help his case.

He tries desperately to recover on the walk but every time he starts talking she makes a show of looking at him, eyes lingering, something she enjoys greatly, making him blush even more.

The day by the lake passes beautifully. Games of chicken, sunbathing, forcing Ron to go back and pick up sandwiches at lunch time.

It's mid afternoon, Ron and Ginny playing a game of exploding snap on the jetty over the lake, Harry reading 'Quidditch through the ages', George writing a letter to Angelina.

The pair are in the lake, Fred pushing her in when she was sunbathing earlier and jumping in after her. They'd had a race which landed them a distance away from the others.

"You won because I let you," Fred announces

"I won because I took swimming lessons until I was 11 and was on a summer swim team until I was 14," She shrugs

"What else don't I know about you?" He teases

"I speak Latin, I can play the piano and flute, this is the first school break I haven't spent nearly ever waking minute at my ballet studio and I know greek mythology like the back of my hand,"

"Why?"

"Private tutors," She shrugs, he laughs loudly, shocked he knew so little about aspects of her life.  She shivers a little

"You wanna get out?" He questions

"Quite like the water," She shrugs, he nods, opening his arms

"I'm not cuddling you in the water Fred,"

"It's that or hypothermia," He shrugs, she sighs, secretly happy, and allows him to pull her into his hold, resting her head on his shoulder as he subconsciously strokes a hand up and down her back.

"You really are full of surprises," He comments

"As are you, I've been learning an awful lot about you from your parents,"

"If it made me sound uncool it was a lie,"

"You were already uncool to me," She smirks,

"Harsh," He grins, eyes focused on the way she bites her bottom lip as she stares up at him "You look really beautiful," he comments

"So do you pumpkin," She returns.

Neither of them know what's overtaking their system as they lean in slowly, her lips just grazing his when suddenly his shoulder's are pulled down and he's held under water. Ron laughing happily when his brother pushes his way up to the surface a scowl on his face.

"What the fuck, Ron!" Fred shouts

"We need to leave or we'll be late back," The younger boy announces, swimming away before his brother can splash him.

Fred shoots her a sorry smile before they both swim back, climbing the ladder onto the pier. Fred makes sure to wait until Ron's holding his towel and wearing his t-shirt before he shoves him off the pier and back into the lake for ruining the moment.

I used to think that Romeo was full of shit And The Notebook was just my favourite chick flick But now I get why Sarah was so hard to forget It's this feeling that I'm feeling, like Nemo in a net

It's been two weeks since she arrived by the time she is ready to open up about the fight with her parents. It's only her and Fred. They sit cross legged on a sofa, the warm night breeze pushing through the open windows.

The kids had all occupied the living room, watching movies and eating snack but as the night got later one by one they'd all gone up to bed, leaving the pair who had been cuddled up way too close for just friends all night.  

"I told you Ginny had foul choice in films," Fred comments

"I quite enjoyed it," the girl shrugs in response

"You. You who has previously said 'Love is a commercial lie' enjoyed Titanic," He smirks

"I guess maybe I'm starting to accept I could have been a little wrong," She admits, refusing to look at Fred.

It was true, being with Fred all summer had made her realise that the love she felt for him wasn't just some stupid passing thing. She loved Fred Weasley. Loved him to her very core. She thinks a part of why she was finally letting herself feel the admittedly scary emotions was seeing how happy Molly and Arthur were.

"Why do you hate love?" He questions, it was a thought that had been on his mind a lot as of late.

"I guess I just never saw it before," She shrugs

"Aren't your parents married?"

"Yeah but they don't love each other. They were an arranged marriage, father had the prettiest girl and mother married into a fortune. They barely speak unless they are in public. They sleep on opposite sides of the house," She speaks and her voice is void of emotion, Fred isn't sure what to say.

"So you just assumed no one was happily married?" He questions gently, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"No. I knew love was real, it was just that it was easier to not fall in love and it the best way to stop it was to convince myself no one had it," She admits

"Why wouldn't you want to fall in love though?" He prompts, eyes fixed on her as she fiddles with the hem of the large t-shirt she's wearing.

"It would end in heart break. I have to marry whoever my parents pick. If I fall in love when I get married I live my whole life knowing what I could have had. But now, I'm halfway in love and my whole world feels, I don't know how to describe it, brighter I guess, and all that self preservation was meaningless,"

Fred feels his heart break a little. He wasn't sure if it was because she had been dealing with all this for so long or if because deep down he knew he would marry her tomorrow and he didn't doubt for a second that he wanted her forever.

"I'm so sorry," He hums out

"Not your fault. It's what we argued about, they had a suitor coming to stay for the summer. That's why I ran," She admits

"Oh, sweetheart," He sighs, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him.

"Would be great if you could do something repulsive so I like you less," She jokes, he laughs loudly

"Sorry, darling, but I really don't plan on letting you slip through my fingers and no matter what I'll make sure you don't have to marry some pretentious pure blood," He promises and she feels more at ease than she has in years, she knows Fred has got her, Fred'll stop at nothing to make sure she is happy.

Pumpkin, pumpkin You're gonna kill me Pumpkin, pumpkin La-la-la-la-la-la Pumpkin, pumpkin Need you to feel me Pumpkin, pumpkin La-la-la-la-la-la

"Where are we going?" She questions, eyes squeezed shut as Fred tugs her hand pulling her along behind him.

"My favourite place," he responds, although she had no clue what that meant.

"Well, are we nearly there?"

"Shut up and be patient, jeez woman,"

It's a further three minutes when Fred stops, laughing when she walks right into him, eyes still closed.

"Okay, open," She can hear his smile

She opens her eyes, they're standing in front of a meadow full of wildflowers, the pink sun set making everything glow, a picnic blanket full of goodies that were clearly prepared by Molly in the centre.

"You're right. It's beautiful," She smiles brightly, turning from the view to look up at Fred who is beaming down at her.

"Not as beautiful as you," He grins cheekily

"That was awful," She smirks, his loud laughter ringing out through the meadow. She grabs his hand in hers again, pulling him along to the picnic blanket.

"So, how did you enjoy your summer?" He questions

"We have three days left," She argues

"That excited to go back to school?" He teases

"It's our last year, guess I'm just not ready for it to be over," She explains, he smiles gently

"I get that," He agrees, shooting her a smile "Don't want to fall out of touch with people," He adds. She nods. Extending her hand pointing her pinky finger at him

"I don't make pinky promises if I don't know what they are,"

"That no matter how far apart we end up, you and I are always going to have each other, always going to be friends,"

"Who knew the Slytherin was so sappy," He teases, his finger immediately wrapping around hers and squeezing.

"Tell anyone and I'll kill you," She smirks, Fred chuckles, passing her a chocolate covered strawberry.

"I can catch that in my mouth,"He speaks confidently.

20 minutes and a 30% success rate between the two of them, Fred leaps to his feet pulling her with him.

"Where are we going?"

"We are dancing,"

"There's no music,"

"I can sing if you want," He offers

"I'd rather not go deaf," She smirks, he laughs loudly

"I'm a great singer," He defends, she raises her eyebrows at him,

"Whatever you say pumpkin." she laughs when he rolls his eyes.

"Fine, we don't need music,"

He pulls her into him, arms around her waist as hers wrap around his neck, her head on his shoulder and Fred Weasley could die happy. He has no idea that she could too.

I used to think that Romeo was full of shit But when I look at you, I think this must be it, oh

It's the last night before school starts when she knocks at Fred's bedroom door. Hands shaking a little in nervousness and pacing the hallway.

It's pulled open by the boy who's brows furrow in concern at the sight of her.

"Can I come in? we need to talk,"

"George is asleep, we can talk out here," He smiles softly at her, stepping into the hallway and tugging the door closed behind him.

"You ruined me," She states

"What?" He questions, eyes wide and a sense of nervousness about him

"I had everything together. Everything was perfect, it was glass and could break any second but it as mine and it made me good, it protected me,"

"I'm confused,"

"I didn't let boys matter. It didn't matter if they laughed at my joke, if they were looking at me when I looked at them, if they thought I looked good, if they found me too bitchy or too loud or too anything. It didn't feel like if I wasn't near them I couldn't breathe,"

"If it makes you feel better I always think you look good,"

"Fred, I'm being serious,"

"So am I, darling,"

"I'm scared,"

"I won't hurt you,"

"I think that's the problem," she admits.

"I'm gonna kiss you now cause I've waited forever and you make it fucking impossible sometimes and by sometimes I mean every fucking day cause you-"

"Just kiss me pumpkin,"

"That's still not-"

His protest ends when her lips crash to his, he grins into the kiss, arms snaking around her to pull her in as her's tangle in his hair. A grunt leaving his lips and falling into hers making her smirk against him.

Everything falls into place.  

"About time," They jump apart at the sound of George's voice, leaning in the hallway

"What the fuck George?" Fred complains, although his arms stay wrapped around her, effectively holding her flush to his chest, unable to leave his grip.

"Maybe don't have private discussions in the middle of the hall if you don't want us all listening," at the sound of Ginny's voice the couple look upwards.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione who arrived two days before are leaning over the banister on the floor above them to watch.

Fred sighs, before deciding fuck it and crashing his lips back to hers, a little less innocent, smirking when he hears fake gags and his siblings all running back to their rooms.

Pumpkin, pumpkin You're gonna kill me Pumpkin, pumpkin La-la-la-la-la-la Pumpkin, pumpkin I need you to feel me Pumpkin, pumpkin La-la-la-la-la-la, oh Oh-oh, pumpkin, pumpkin Oh, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la, ooh, ooh-ooh

**

Masterlist

[danascully77]

#10 angst and/or #10 general from the prompt list :)

#10 angst “How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?” and/or #10 general “You want to play pretend? Well two can play at that game.” from the prompt list :)

I picked the first one, but tried to work in the second. Hope you like it! <3 

Mulder’s been back from the dead for a few weeks now and things are tense. He’s barely spoken to Scully and tries to avoid looking at her pregnant stomach when they are forced to be in the same room. His eyes will flutter down before snapping up to hers with a sad, detached look in his eyes.

The interaction breaks her heart every time.

Sighing, Scully knocks on the door to his apartment and waits. It feels foreign, this formality. Before his disappearance and subsequent death, she would knock once and then let herself in. It didn’t matter if she was there for work or a casual hangout (or toward the end, for sex). And then after he was gone, she would key into his place to spend the night in his bed. Even though it was lonely and her heart broke for a man she thought she’d never see again, it felt natural to claim ownership of his space.

Now she feels like an intruder even after he opens the door and lets her inside.

She wants to scream, to holler at him, to slap him when he glances down at her stomach before turning away with the same broken expression. He hasn’t even asked her about her pregnancy and it makes her want to throw-up. Why isn’t he happy? Does he regret getting her pregnant? Does he wish she had left him dead?

Too many thoughts burn in her mind. She’s trying to give him space. Coming back from the dead after an abduction can’t be easy (she knows about the latter) and doesn’t want to rush him. Yet, his complete lack of questioning hurts. She longed for him for months and now to have him back as a shell of himself is hard to take.

“I brought Chinese.” Scully says, awkwardly holding up the bag of take-out.

“Thanks.” Mulder takes it from her and settles them on the couch to eat the feast she brought. Scully catches him watching her out of the corner of his eye as she slowly brings herself down to the couch, grunting silently as the weight of her stomach pinches her spine before she rests against the cushions.

“Need another pillow?” Mulder offers, sliding it behind her back before she can nod in affirmation.

The question and action stun her. It’s the closest he has come to acknowledging her pregnancy.

“Thanks.” She whispers. It’s silent then, for the next few minutes as they both pick at their food. Neither are very hungry, but chewing gives them a distraction from talking. Mulder’s tv is on in the background and they both stare at the poorly written sci-fi movie playing out on the screen.

Scully tries to subtly study him from the corner of her eye as she eats. He seems tense and rigid, his lanky limbs coiled as if to spring to action at any moment. She knows his forced vacation/firing is hard on him, making his re-animation even more painful, but there seems to be something else upsetting him. Scully wishes he would speak with her, but can’t find the words to ask him about his feelings.

They were stunted in that department before the abduction. Now it’s even worse.

As a sigh draws from his lips, his food discarded on the coffee table, she knows she’s been caught studying him. She sets her own food to the side and turns to stare at him directly. “Can we talk?”

“About?” His response is smooth, but she catches the slightly annoyed undertone.

“Us.”

“Us?”

“Yes.”

“What is there to say?” This time his tone is less subtle and Scully bites her bottom lip at the irritation in his voice.

“How are you feeling?” It’s a weak question, a cop-out. They both know it. On a normal day, Mulder might let her get away with it, but not tonight.

“Scully, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Check on me.” Mulder waves his hands in front of him. “Hang out like we used to.”

“Why not?” Scully’s nervous. Does he not like her anymore? Does he blame her for not saving him?

“You must have more… important things to do now.” His eyes glance purposefully down at her stomach.

“Oh.” Scully breathes, looking down at her own body. “I’m fine. My doctor said I’m still okay to be active.” Her eyes glance back up at him to find that his jaw is tight and his fists are locked at his sides.

“I didn’t mean that you should stay home.” The low, dark quality of his voice scares her slightly. Scully can tell he is pissed, but isn’t sure why. At her confused expression, Mulder sighs again. “I just meant that you must have someone else to be with now.”

Scully’s confusion turns to utter shock. He doesn’t realize I’m pregnant with his kid. The realization slams into her like a ton of bricks. It all makes sense now. Mulder would have no reason to assume this pregnancy is because of their few nights together. She was sterile. He doesn’t know that they got their miracle.

Her jaw opens and closes twice before she reaches for one of his closed fists. “Mulder, look at me.”

“Scully, I can’t do this.” Mulder shakes his head, anger leaking out of every pore. She tries to cut him off, but he stands suddenly to pace the apartment. “How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?”

The heartbreak in his voice draws tears to her eyes. “Mulder.” She tries again, but she can’t get off the couch quickly because of her large stomach and fumbles as he continues to pace.

“You haven’t even mentioned his name. Am I that much of an embarrassment that you don’t want me to know who he is?”

“Mulder, you’re wrong. Let me explain.” She’s desperate now, trying to get off the couch but the old cushions are too soft and she keeps sinking back as she tries to stand.

“I get it, Scully. You thought I was dead, but it’s only been a few months. Months. Am I that easy to get over?”

“Mulder.”

“I should have stayed dead. You should have left me in the ground.”

The moment he switches to self-deprecation in the form of suicide, Scully loses her patience. “Mulder!” His name is a loud shout and it finally draws his attention. “Get me off the fucking couch.”

The annoyance and anger in her tone surprises him and he moves quickly to assist her in standing. He sees her tears forming and mistakes them for frustration. When she’s finally vertical, Mulder’s eyes drop to the floor, deflated now that the anger is gone. “If you want to go back to just being friends, I can pretend that I’m okay with it. I’ll pretend for you, Scully.”

“Mulder, I don’t want you to pretend.”

“Oh.” Mulder nods, tears prickling his own eyes. It’s the first time since being back alive that he has felt any other emotion other than anger and betrayal. “I understand. Thanks for coming to say goodbye.”

“What? No, Mulder. You’re not giving me time to explain.” Scully grabs his hands and holds firm when he tries to pull away. “Look at me.”

“Scully.” “Mulder, shut up and look at me.”

His eyes lock with hers and he stops trying to pull his hands free. His taller frame bends slightly toward her out of an unconscious impulse to be closer and they take a few seconds to breathe. The emotions in the room feel like electricity and both of their bodies have goosebumps from the adrenaline.

“Ask me.” Scully whispers.

It takes him a second to understand, slowly shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Ask me.” Scully prompts, blue eyes shining up into his with unshed tears.

Mulder gulps and glances at her stomach before meeting her gaze once more. “Whose child…” His voice breaks for a second. “How did you meet…” Mulder sighs. “Is it someone I know?”

Scully smiles a small smirk and drags his hands to touch her stomach. He flinches and tries to withdraw, but she holds steady and tries to ignore the pain in her heart as he attempts to jerk away.

“It’s yours.” Her voice comes out shaky and an octave too high, her fear evident in the quiet of his living room.

Mulder stutters for a second, his eyes rapidly moving up and down from his hands on her stomach to her face. “What?” It’s a breathless question when he is finally able to form words.

“I found out the day you went missing.”

“How? You were sterile. I thought the in vitro fertilization failed?”

Scully shivers as she feels his hands grip her stomach, no longer trying to rip away from her. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t realize he is actively holding her now. “The in vitro did fail.” Scully confirms. “But we had sex…” The word makes her blush despite everything they’ve gone through. “… and…” She breaks off, nervous about saying the word they used to promise to one another.

Mulder’s eyes widen and a tear falls down his cheek. “You got your miracle.”

Scully holds back tears at his wording, reaching up to swipe his from his cheek. “We got our miracle.” Scully holds her breath then. This is the moment. The one that’s been a long time coming. They are either in this together or Scully is about to become a single mother.

The baby kicks before Mulder can respond and he jumps back an inch, staring in wonder at her stomach. Her shirt moves a bit as the baby presses against her, flipping in the womb. Mulder’s mouth opens in shock, looking back at her face in wonder. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really. Sometimes the baby rests on my spine, which is painful, but otherwise it just feels… different. But good different.”

Mulder nods, listening to every word. His hand, which was pulled away from her when he jumped in surprise moves slowly back toward her body. “May I?”

“Of course.” Scully confirms, lacing their fingers before pressing his palm flat on her stomach. “If you hold here sometimes you can feel a kick or two.”

A few seconds later, Scully is proven correct as if the baby in her stomach was waiting for a performance cue. A foot kicks out against her stomach lining and Mulder huffs a pleased laugh in surprise.

“Oh, Scully.” Mulder whispers in breathless awe. The baby kicks again and Mulder pulls Scully into a tight embrace. It’s a bit awkward because of her protruding stomach, but he makes up for it by folding his taller frame around her. “We’re having a baby.”

The moment Mulder takes ownership of their child, Scully’s unshed tears burn down her cheeks. A sob breaks from her lips and she clings to him, fingers digging into his back through his t-shirt. “I’ve missed you so much, Mulder. I… oh god… I thought I was going to raise our child alone.”

Mulder pulls back to cup her face, stroking her wet cheeks. “Scully.” Her whispered name conveys all the emotions they are feeling. She cries openly, watching as Mulder does the same. He opens his mouth to say more, but a kick against his abdomen draws his attention and they both laugh instead. “Our child.” Mulder whispers with a broad smile.

Scully nods and gasps quietly as Mulder drops to his knees. Her hands land in his hair, fluffy from the few weeks he has been back without a haircut, and she strokes his scalp as he slowly lifts her shirt.

“Oh.” A startled gasp breaks from her mouth as his lips land on her bare stomach. The feeling of his pouty lower lip touching her skin makes her body tingle and her fingers dig lightly into his scalp. Emotions pull in her chest and she sobs when he kisses all across her stomach.

“I can’t wait to meet you.” Mulder whispers to the baby after he is done with his kissing exploration.

The words break Scully’s barely withheld resolve and she lets out a loud sob. Bending down, Scully tugs on his hair and slams her lips to his with a wild desperation. Her tears mix with his on his cheeks as she devours his lips. The kiss is messy and sloppy and uncoordinated. Too many emotions make it frantic, but neither of them seem to care. The fact that they are kissing again overshadows finesse.

They pull back as Scully whimpers a sob against his lips. “Scully.” He breathes, standing to pull her back to his chest.

“Please, Mulder.” She whines, not entirely sure what’s she’s asking for but knowing she can’t stand to be without him for a second longer.

As if understanding, Mulder laces their hands and leads her to his bedroom. It’s clean and organized, a sign that Scully was living there during the months that he was missing, but his worn clothes litter the floor. The sight makes another sob pull from her chest and Mulder is quick to remove her shirt, discarding it among his own clothing.

Scully turns slightly, suddenly bashful about the state of her larger body, but Mulder catches her by her arms, holding her steady. “You’re still so beautiful, Scully. I’ve missed your body.”

“Mulder.” She whispers. She realizes that she hasn’t said his name this many times since his disappearance and it feels heavy and reverent on her lips.

Mulder runs his hands across her hips, catching the band of her leggings. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, her pants are peeled from her legs and she is left standing in her bra and panties. Mulder moans softly, tracing his fingertips up her thighs. They are slightly larger from the extra weight she is carrying and he smiles as they tremble under his hands.

“Gorgeous.” Mulder praises, kissing her hip right where it meets leg.

“Oh my god.” Scully moans, emotions raging wild alongside arousal.

“Is it okay if we…?” Mulder trails off with a slightly embarrassed flush.

Scully giggles and the reprieve makes her feel lighter. The emotional break good for both of them. “Yes. We can have sex while I’m pregnant.”

“I have so much research to catch up on.” Mulder smiles from his position on his knees.

The statement makes Scully’s heart lurch. He is going to research how to be a father. The thought makes her reach for him, bringing him back to his feet. “Can we skip the foreplay? I need you inside of me.” She’s slightly embarrassed at being so blunt about their first time back together, but she doesn’t care.

Mulder must not mind because he nods and kisses her once before stripping off his own shirt and pants. The sight of his bare torso makes her reach for him, stroking up his chest with flat hands.

“Please.” She breathes again.

“How do you want to do this?” Mulder responses.

Scully bites her lip. She wants to be able to see him while they reconnect, but she also knows that doggy-style would be easier with her pregnancy. “I’ll start on top.” She decides. It won’t be for long, but she needs to look at him as she takes him inside her body.

Mulder nods and quickly drops his boxers before sliding onto his bed. He watches with admiration as she slips out of her panties and sheds her bra before straddling him on the bed. It takes a few moments and Mulder’s assistance to get her there, but once she is in place they hold hands on top of her stomach for a few beats of their hearts.

“Ready?” Scully whispers.

“Ready.” Mulder nods.

Their moans join as they cry out into the bedroom, the first few inches of his shaft slipping into her sex. When he is buried inside of her, pelvis to pelvis, they pause and stare at one another. Neither can believe they are here, like this. It’s breathtaking and surreal.

Slowly, Scully begins to bounce up and down. Her movements are small, unable to lift completely with her added weight, but they don’t mind. It keeps him incredibly deep and strokes against her g-spot almost immediately. Scully gasps in surprise at the sudden intense pleasure, stunned that they still fit together so perfectly.

Mulder unlaces their hands to hold her hips, a grin spreading over his features at her slightly wider hips. “Pregnancy looks good on you.”

Scully blushes. Her breasts are larger and swollen as well and sway heavily as she rocks on his hips. Her hands cup them when the swaying starts to ache and smirks a small grin when he moans in response.

After a few more minutes, her breathing gets heavy and her thighs sink against his legs. “Mulder, I can’t…” She doesn’t have to finish her sentence. He rolls them gently over so that she’s propped against some pillows on her back. It takes them a few minutes to get things just right for her back, but it doesn’t kill the mood. Mulder slips back inside of her still just as hard as he was.

With her stomach in the way, Mulder can’t hover above her and settles for pulling her legs over his hips as he rocks into her at a ninety-degree angle to her body. Scully re-cups her breasts as they bounce on her chest and Mulder groans softly at not being able to suck on her nipples.

“Another time.” Scully gasps, catching his longing stare.

He smirks and nods, keeping his thrusts steady in and out of her. Her wetness coats his shaft and he moans at the sight of their arousals joining between their thighs.

“Scully.” Mulder moans. “I’m not going to last much longer.” He sounds apologetic, but Scully shakes her head to dismiss his embarrassment. He just came back from the dead after all. He can’t be expected to have stamina. Not when the love of his life just told him that the baby in her belly is his.

“It’s okay.” Scully promises, reaching for one of his hands again.

“Are you close?”

“No.” Scully admits with no malice in her voice. “But the pregnancy makes orgasming tough sometimes.”

“I can wait until…”

Scully cuts him off with a shake of her head. “I don’t care if I don’t orgasm tonight. I just want to feel you come in me.”

The bluntness makes Mulder groan and he squeezes her hand. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Scully nods with a smile.

They had only slept together a few times before he went missing, but she learned quickly that he was a very thoughtful lover. She never went without an orgasm, often coming multiple times in a session. Scully knows it’s not in his nature to come first, but moans as he lets himself go just this once, confident that she is telling him the truth about her desires.

His hips piston a bit harder and quicker inside of her, stroking himself along her slippery walls before tipping over the ledge of pleasure. He cries out her name, fucking her through his orgasm as he empties inside of her.

The action makes them both think about the child in her belly and after he spurts the last of his orgasm into her core he falls next to her, collecting her in his arms. Her ass meets his softening cock, their arousals smearing on her lower back, but neither mind the mess. His arms keep her close and they breath in unison for a long time.

“I’m going to be a father.”

“I’m going to be a mother.”

Mulder holds her stomach, feeling the baby wiggling around in her stomach and Scully’s hands join his on her body.

There are a lot of unknowns left to figure out. Their relationship, the x-files, if they will co-parent while living together, etc. but for right now they are back together and that’s all that matters. Scully’s in his bed with him and she isn’t alone anymore.

Turning onto her back, she kisses him deeply before settling back to be the little spoon. “Mulder?”

“Yeah, Scully?” “You do know I love you, right?”

Mulder hugs her tighter to him. “I do now. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“I should have explained the pregnancy the moment you woke up.”

Mulder kisses her shoulder. “Let’s talk about this later. I just want to hold you and our baby for a while.” Scully smiles as his thumbs brush her belly back and forth. It’s quiet for a second longer. “I love you too, Scully.”

[spkyscry-a]

Vera’s No Good Very Bad Day (pt.1)

She’d already been dreading this day for the entire month prior, so, naturally, that meant the universe had to make it all the more miserable for her. Head was still searing, fighting through the dim static fog of what can only be called a possession-induced migraine. Perhaps even on top of the concussion she was too damaged to truly process. She made her way to the doors of the school building, cursing quietly to herself at the sight of the downpour that of course was coming down from the overcast above. 

“Peachy.” 

A pause to glance down at phone, good hand flicking through messages to triple-check her certainty that she’d stated she required a pick-up instead of driving to the location herself. She had, it appeared, but what was startling was that she’d only sent that mere minutes ago. It had felt like at least a half hour.. maybe she’s worse off than she thought. Still, this meeting was too important to miss. It couldn’t even be rescheduled without looking bad... They’d come here from the next city over, which wasn’t exactly the closest place. So here she was, arm in an impromptu cast, one of her snakes dangling dead on her head, and so mentally frazzled all Vera wanted to do was curl up and cry.

But she wouldn’t. She owned this city. She wouldn’t let the neighboring power players say otherwise.

Slipping phone back into her purse, she tried to rub the bleariness from her eyes while she braced herself to ignore the rain until she got to the street. It was something she hated about this school. The fact that she had to walk a quarter mile just to get to a damned car. Sucking in a deep, hissing breath, Vera opened doors and instantly got soaked.

Already sluggish mind tried to slow further as cold blood ran colder, only keeping pace as her hurried jog down the paths kept it pumping while she moved. Could she have waited for them to make her way to her? Sure, but then she’d have to take the return trip anyways. Besides, she had to get the smell of blood and the sickening chemical-like smell out somehow. So she let herself get bathed in rainwater, making her way through the line of trees and onwards down the path. 

Thankfully, she caught sight of the parking lot before the bouncing of her jog made her protesting arm get too bad, allowing her to slow as she caught sight of the large black van pulling out of its parking spot to cruise closer to the edge for the gorgon. 

Wait, if they had their large vehicle out then that meant--

Just as she grimaced at the realization, the back doors of the van opened as it came to a halt. The large yeti woman, all eight feet of her, stepped out. Umbrella, as massive as it was to cover both her and Vera, popping loudly above while she approached. Vera could never get over her choice in attire, all black t-shirt and dark cargo pants. She even wore the little combat boots while on duty. She really needed to teach her that she didn’t have to dress ‘scary’ to look it. All that muscle, tensing as it seemed she finally registered how truly awful Vera looked, did that well enough.

“You are unwell,” the yeti stated, accent everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Do you need us to go back and finish the job?” 

Vera scowled, eliciting a hum from her head security before she even replied. “No need, they're already dead.”

It wasn’t a lie, Vera thought. Just using the truth to answer the wrong question. 

That’s why, even in her haggard state, she could stare the imposing figure directly in those glaring eyes without so much as a devious flutter of lashes. Though the temptation was strong, perhaps a bit of the silliness coming from her brain wanting some alleviation from the horrors of the day. 

Finally, the other relented, letting out a sound that Vera almost thought was disappointment. It had been somewhat quiet recently, considering. Though she doubted it would last as she was escorted to the van and out of the rain that was so relentless it threatened to make her ill with its noise. Into the van she went, hesitating slightly upon seeing the others. ..Right, yes, she had ordered an increased security detail for this meeting, that’s right. Further in she went, sitting comfortable in one of the seats against the wall as suspension winced at the herculean monster that had followed behind. 

Doors slam shut, eliciting a wince from the gorgon. Already, a new outfit was being provided as van raced out of lot. Already, she was being helped into new attire. Prettied up, given how close to death she appeared at a mere glance. She needed to look her best, or at least as best she could, for this meeting. 

If it went poorly, she might not be stepping out of it, after all.

[junicai]

i search the universe.

| order no. | 5/21

| summary | Are ‘exploring’ and ‘being hopelessly lost’ synonyms? According to Jongin, they most definitely are.

| word count | 1.9k

| warnings | mentions of kidnapping but it’s just an old lady looking out for Aria when she’s with two very suspicious looking older men, sasaengs 

| era | circa. January 2020 

a/n: this definitely took a turn from the request, but i hope you still like it! if you’re not vibing with it, you can dm me, and i’ll see what i can re-write. thank you! 

The tour was set to kick off again in San Diego, California, after a pause for the duration of December. The time off was greatly appreciated; Aria found herself sleeping for twelve hours at a time occasionally, her sleep schedule trying to right itself after having been flipped on its head too many times to count. 

The flight from Seoul to California was long, and Aria had slept for a grand total of twenty minutes by the time they touched down on the tarmac runway again. 

It had been Jongin’s idea to go exploring before their first schedule that evening, an invitation that was proposed to all the members but only accepted by Taemin. When Jongin’s deflated look was fixed on Aria, she crumbled like the weak woman that she was, and agreed to accompany the two older men on an impromptu trip around the city. 

She’d never even left Ireland prior to joining the company (bar skating competitions, but those were less of a trip and more of a airport-taxi-hotel-rink-repeat combo, if you will) so each new city was met with widened eyes and dramatic oohs and aahs.

The trio had dropped their suitcases into their hotel rooms - Jongin rooming with Taemin this time around, and Aria with Ten - and pulled out a light jacket for outerwear, in Aria’s case, before they were marching out the door, masks pulled up over their faces. 

Aria’s hoodie that she had worn on the plane lay on the bedspread in her room, her phone forgotten in it’s pocket. 

The air was cool but not biting outside, and as Aria linked her hand into Taemin’s, the sun was still above the horizon. Jongin slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“The interview is scheduled for 6, which means we need to be back at the hotel for 4, which gives us,” He checked his watch, “Roughly two hours. Maybe a little more, if we push it.”

Taemin fixed him with a look. “Let’s not do that. It’s twenty to two now, lets aim to be back for twenty to four.”

Aria tugged on Taemin’s hand where the singer had still yet to let go. “Mhm! that way, if things go skywards, then we have time to take a back route or something.” 

Jongin nodded, satisfied. “Okay! So, where first?”

Aria exchanged a look with Taemin, before starting down the street. “Let’s find out!” 

With each building, came a new attraction to stare at. Small stalls sat at the street corners, attendees calling out to them to barter their goods. The buildings seemed to climb into the sky for miles, never-ending as far as Aria’s eyes could see.

The city was bustling with noise, cars passing on the wide streets with sharp beeps! that sent Aria jumping into the air occasionally, much to the chagrin of Jongin. 

He caught her waist when she jumped backwards the first time, stopping her from flattening him onto the sidewalk. “You alright there?” He leaned forwards with a teasing grin. 

Aria had huffed, swatting his hands off her waist before fixing her shirt. “Fine.” 

The grin had stayed plastered on Jongin’s face for the next two blocks, widening further when the girl jumped again at the sound of a harsh tire squeal and a series of rapid-fire beeps following it. 

Taemin lead the two away from the commotion, and they continued their in-depth exploration of the city and it’s secrets. 

It was wonderful; Until it wasn’t.

Honestly, they probably should have realized when they started being followed. It happened regularly on the streets back home, but here, they were off-guard and so the first flash of a shutter going off send Taemin stumbling backwards slightly. 

All hell broke loose from there.

A group of fourteen or fifteen teenage girls gathered, the leader of which had her phone gripped in her hand. “KAI OPPA!” She screamed, and like a battle cry - the others joined her.

Aria felt frozen, her legs refusing to cooperate with the frantic run, run, run run run that her brain was playing on a loop. The group advanced quickly, moving around the street corner and were only a few yards away when Jongin grabbed her wrist, fingers encircling tightly, and pulled her into motion. 

They ran on autopilot, blind as to where they were going only knowing that they couldn’t stop. The pounding of feet was still deafening behind them, and Jongin speeded up, Taemin following suit. 

It wasn’t long until Aria felt like she was doing less running and rather simply being tugged along by her wrist; legs pumping as fast as she could made them, but her strides were nearly double what she’d normally take even at a flat out sprint. 

Taemin tugged them both into a small alleyway, hoping that the shade the towering buildings offered on either side was enough to shield them from the fangirls’ piercing gazes.

Aria bent over, hands on her knees, panting.

“Oh god,” Jongin coughed out. “Not a single day, huh?” 

Taemin nodded sadly in commiseration, catching his own breath. “How did they even know it was us?” 

“The hair, probably,” Aria mumbled, already pulling her hair back into her hood. The bleached blonde and sky blue streaks combination was a tell-tale sign, and she kicked herself mentally for not at least putting her hair up into a bun to hide the most dramatic parts of it.

“What do we do now?” Aria looked to the two older men. “Do we just try to make a run for it? I don’t think I can remember which way we even went, we were just running. Oh god, are we lost now? Can we even get back to the hotel?” 

Taemin extended an arm, wrapping around Aria’s back and pulling her into a hug, before subtly moving them both behind a large sign that blocked them from view.

The group of girls passed by the entrance to the alley, chattering loudly. 

“Where did they go?” 

“Did you see which way they went?” 

“Taeminnie oppa~ Saranghae, come back~”

“Who was the 

“Okay,” Taemin took a deep breath. “Okay, we’ve done this before. My phone died somewhere back there, but Aria, do you want to call Baekhyun hyung while Jongin tries to figure out where we are?” 

He received two nods in return, and Aria’s hands patted her pockets. The empty lining gave underneath her fingers, and her stomach sunk slightly in dread. 

“My phone isn’t-” She looked up to Jongin with wide eyes. “I left it in the hotel room, I think, when I changed my jumper.” 

Jongin put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing soothingly. “It’s okay, we still have mine.” 

Aria’s breath was coming in slightly labored, with a light tremor that shook her chest. 

The ringing sounded loud as it echoed down the alley, and Jongin scrambled to turn the phone on silent. 

“What?” Baekhyun’s voice was tinny through the phone’s speakers, and Jongin moved down towards the end of the alley, out of Aria and Taemin’s earshot.

“Hyung,” Jongin spoke, heavy with relief. 

“What? You’ve just woken me up-” Jongin interrupted Baekhyun before he could start yelling down the phone. 

“Hyung, we got followed.” 

“By who?” 

“Fans, we think. They spotted us a couple streets ago, we ran and now we don’t know where we are.” 

A muttered curse came down the phone line, and what sounded like Baekhyun shutting a door. “Right, find out where you are, and I’ll get the manager to come get you lot. This is why I said no to going out, you’re all tired and then things like this happen Jongin-” 

“Hyung! I know, and I’m sorry you can scold me for it later, but right now,” He tossed a glance over his shoulder to Aria, who was encircled in Taemin’s arms. “Aria’s freaking out, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t think hiding in an alley is helping.” 

Baekhyun was silent, breathing out another curse. “Taeyong, he told me - it happened a while ago, and he didn’t tell me a lot, but enough.” 

“Hyung?” 

“Aria had a bad, altercation, lets say, with a sasaeng two years ago. I don’t know what exactly happened - Yongie didn’t tell me - but I’ll bet that’s why she’s freaking right now. Maybe just-” 

The line cut out. 

Jongin shook his phone, clicking the power button. “Hyung? Hyung?”

Taemin looked over. “Is everything alright?” 

“Phone’s dead.” 

Aria’s head peeked up, wide eyed. “Really?” 

Jongin nodded. 

“So- so what do we do? Did you talk to oppa?” 

He bit his lip. “Yeah, yeah I did. We’re gonna go find another store that’ll let us use their phone okay? And we’re gonna call the manager.” He turned to Aria. “Do you think you could talk to someone right now, Ari? Is that okay?” 

Aria took a deep breath, closing her eyes and exhaling smoothly. “I can do that. I can definitely do that.” The tremor in her hands told otherwise, but she tucked them into her pockets to hide that fact.

“Okay. Okay, let’s go.” Taemin peered around the alley walls, looking and seeing no gang of girls waiting to pounce on them. 

The trio stepped out from behind the building walls, and quickly jogged their way into the nearest café - two storefronts down. 

“Miss? Miss, I’m so sorry to bother you, but could I borrow your landline for a moment? My own phone’s dead, you see.” Aria cleared her throat, peering up at the kind lady behind the counter.

Her wizened eyes took in the small stature of Aria, and the two men standing at the doorway, peering outside. They looked suspicious; hoods pulled low over their eyes, and masks hiding the bottom half of their faces, staring out the window as if they were waiting for someone to show up; and they were ready to flee.

 Slowly, an understanding dawned on her - connecting the wrong dots together and garnering a jumbled up picture of the truth.

“Oh, dear of course, just come behind here and I’ll call someone for you - do you have your mother’s number with you? Your father’s?” She began to usher Aria behind the counter.

“Oh, no, miss, that’s alright, I just need to use your phone for a moment-”

The lady leaned closer. “Dear, if those men are trying to take you somewhere, you’re absolutely welcome to stay in the back room. Do you want me to call the cops?”

Aria choked. “Oh! Oh no- oh those are my brothers miss! They’re not- I haven’t been-” 

The lady looked on with squinted eyes. “They can’t hurt you dearie, you’re safe now-”

“No, I promise you miss, they’re my brothers, they just don’t speak very good English. Can I please use your phone? Please?” Aria was begging at this point. 

Reluctantly, a phone was handed to her, and she wasted no time in inputting Baekhyun’s number. It rang once, before being picked up.

“Oppa?” 

[iamtheblondestblonde]

The Clark Kent Effect

Part One

AN: So this is meant to be the beginning of a (semi short) series, depending on how well it’s received. Feedback is therefore more than appreciated and always remember I love reading tags. Feel free to message me or send me anons as well, every interaction makes my day :) 

To all my American followers: please go vote tomorrow, I don’t even live there but I still know how important it is.

Word Count: 2.9k (short boi)

Warnings: alcohol and one swear word maybe? 

Part Two

My other writing can be found here

While your costume had seemed like a great idea two days ago you now thought differently.

Technically it was a great costume, but only because you hadn’t exactly planned on needing to step out of the club to make an angry phone call. Alas here you were, legs shaking and teeth clattering because of your stupidly short dress, this situation the last nail in the coffin that would finally pronounce your disaster with Colin dead for good. You weren’t sad about it in the least, only cold. If only you’d thought of grabbing your jacket on your way outside this wouldn’t be as bad, it was the end of October and you were in New York after all, but you’d been so angry to see his caller ID on your screen that you’d stormed out without thinking, which you now deeply regretted.

Stepping back inside was like heaven and running into a wall at the same time, if said wall was made out of hot air and the smell of sweat, hairspray and alcohol. You really shouldn’t be happy about stuffy air, but at least you weren’t shivering anymore so you were going to mark it down as a success in your books. Since the restrooms were close to your right you made a quick detour, checking if everything was still where it was supposed to be.

At least your boobs hadn’t fallen out yet and you dismissed the judgy stares in the restroom as you readjusted your cleavage and reapplied your bold red lipstick. Normally you’d stare as well, not judging but usually intrigued by women who portrayed such confidence but tonight you were one of these women and you wouldn’t let anyone else ruin it. You’d earned a good night out after finally escaping Colin’s manipulative fuckboy ways and telling him to get lost for good.

So with your chin up and your shoulders straight you stepped out of the restroom, determined to find your group of friends again so you could get drunk and finally have a good time. It took a bit longer than you’d like to admit, your heels only barely giving your tiny frame a height advantage but then you finally spotted the fluffy halo of your best friend. After making sure that it was really her – there were enough angels in this room to make any priest happy after all – you quickly made your way over to her.

Or at least you tried.

You’d only gotten a few steps in when your heel got caught in the costume of a guy dressed up as mummy – which really only consisted of his regular clothes and what you estimated to be about three rolls of toilet paper – and you stumbled. You could already see yourself in the emergency room of the closest hospital with a broken nose from crashing to the ground, blood running down your face and staining your already red dress. Perhaps you could play it off as a part of your costume but it’d still hurt and your night would definitely be over.

But none of that happened because you were saved by a very handsome Superman. He’d stood with his back to you, you’d definitely spotted his broad shoulders underneath the stretched blue fabric earlier, but he’d turned in your direction right before gravity had decided to take its toll on you. Apparently his costume was justified though, because he caught you with cat-like reflexes, wrapping his hands around your arms and pulling you back towards an upright position before anything damaging could happen.

He was a lot taller than you so the first thing you really noticed of him was his throat and perhaps you really should’ve dressed up as a vampire because you noticed that he had a very sexy throat, if that was even a thing. Your weird thoughts were interrupted by him chuckling though and your gaze quickly snapped up to meet his and you really weren’t sure if you should congratulate or scold yourself for how you’d managed to end up in his arms.

The handsome stranger was wearing glasses in true Clark Kent fashion and his hair was better than any DC artist could have dreamed of, perfectly tousled in the way that showed that he liked to run his hands through it and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to do the same. In the dim lighting of the club you couldn’t make out the color of his eyes behind his glasses but they could honestly be yellow and he’d still be hot as fuck.

Sometime during your almost-fall your hands had ended up on his chest and you really should be embarrassed about the fact that you were practically feeling him up but somehow you couldn’t find yourself to care enough to let go. You relaxed your hands from the tight grasp they had on his shirt and instead carefully splayed them out on his chest as if you were going to push yourself off of him but not really doing so. With how you were pressed against him you could feel the heat radiating through his shirt and how firm his body was, his muscular built more and more evident with every passing second. His hands had started to wander as well, moving up from the side of your arms towards the top of your shoulders, the size of them burning itself into your mind as you just stared at each other.

If one were to ask you what day it was right this moment, you honestly wouldn’t be able to answer them despite everyone in this club dressed in Halloween costumes. Mozart himself could have returned from the dead to perform “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” with a string quartett in the middle of this dancefloor and you probably wouldn’t have noticed right now, too caught up in the eyes of this handsome stranger.

When he reached up with one of his hands to adjust the little devil’s horns on top of your head you blinked in surprise, finally snapping out of your daze.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t mean to crash into you but my heel got caught and-“, you began to ramble, your sense of common decency finally kicking in but he only laughed and since neither of you had taken a step backwards yet you could feel it rumbling through his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind having beautiful girls quite literally falling for me”, he joked and if he were any other guy you probably would’ve scoffed at his choice of words but somehow the boyish charm worked well for him and you found yourself grinning as you came up with a response.

“Mmm let’s hope this isn’t a normal occurrence for you because I’m not a fan of getting caught in traffic.” You finally found the strength to take a, very reluctant, step back, untangling yourself from his grasp and dropping your hands but still smiling up at him. He definitely had the potential to be your catch for the night. You could really use the distraction after all.

Your blissful thoughts were interrupted by someone tugging at your arm though, a look over your shoulder revealing a pouting angel dressed in white and with a bouncing halo. It seemed like Emily had found you instead after you’d gotten distracted by your hero.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the place for you”, she whined and you could tell by her slurred words that she’d gotten quite the head start while you were outside on your phone as she was well on her way to get plastered. Otherwise she never would’ve interrupted a conversation with a hot guy either, it was an unspoken wingwoman rule after all.      

“Come on, Dana just brought a new round of shots and you need to catch up!” And with that she tightened her grip on your wrist and pulled you away. You barely managed to tell the handsome stranger to come find you later before he disappeared between the writhing bodies and was out of your sight.

Way too many shots later you found yourself on the dance floor, intoxicated and having a great time.

Your thoughts hadn’t wandered to Superman in quite a while, too consumed by alcohol and the thumping beat of the music, until you spotted him leaning against the banister of the top floor, drink in one hand and definitely watching you. Again, this would be creepy if he were anyone else but in this case it only made you appreciate the current sensual song even more, your eyes never leaving his as you moved your body to the beat. You were planning on going home with him later either way, you could tease him a little more before then, show him what he could have if he played his cards right.

He was still watching you a couple of songs later when your throat had gotten dry and your heels were starting to grow uncomfortable. In need of a break you pointed towards the bar, hoping that he’d understand and when he nodded you smiled brightly, excusing yourself from your group of friends so you could grab some water. You were done drinking for tonight, much more exciting things laying ahead of you and you wanted to be sober for them.

Water was apparently a welcome change from the regular orders the bartenders got because you were served immediately, a cool bottle set in front of you seconds later. You checked over your shoulder before taking a sip, spotting your Superman as he made his way towards you with a smile, one you returned before turning back around to climb on the stool that had just freed up so you could give your feet a well-deserved break.

When you felt a tap on your shoulder you fully expected it to be the hot guy, your most dazzling smile instantly on your lips as you turned around but it quickly fell off your face as you realized who it really was.

When you were younger you’d often imagined yourself in this moment, thought of what you’d say when you’d finally see him again after all this time apart. A small part of you had pined after him for years and fantasies of how your eyes would meet from across the room and how everything else would stop mattering had filled your daydreams once upon a time. But as you looked at him now there were no butterflies, no fireworks and you could still hear some remix of “Monster Mash” blaring over the speakers, the world was definitely still turning.

Perhaps you’d built up what had been between the two of you in your mind in the years of his absence, put him on a pedestal – he deserved to be one though because through everything he had been nothing short of a great guy – but as you looked at him you realized that all that was in the past. There was just a warm afterglow of what once was. As you looked at him now, there was absolutely no doubt that you didn’t love Anthony Beauvillier anymore.

“I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but wow Y/N you look great”, his familiar voice met your ears and it took you a second to realize that he’d slipped into French, the way the two of you had done countless times as teenagers.

You probably resembled a fish with the way you were opening and closing your mouth without saying anything but you couldn’t help yourself. Seeing Tito in this club had hit you like a fright train and you hadn’t expected it at all, which only made it worse.

Almost 20 Million people lived in New York State and over 8.3 Million in New York City alone. Brooklyn housed well over 500.000 people as well and yet you still managed to run into your ex in this club, despite the both of you growing up in Québec. If you were any good at math you would calculate the probability of this happening but you’d always sucked at it and it really wouldn’t help your situation either. You reminded yourself that you both worked here now but that was absolutely beside the point.

Before you managed to embarrass yourself even further you shook your head to clear your thoughts, smiling at the guy who had once held your heart before making the break into the NHL. He was dressed as a boy scout, with medals pinned to his shirt, the scarf thingy and everything and the costume was so incredibly him that you immediately felt catapulted back into your teenage years. It was easy to fall back into your old routine then.

“Oh yeah, do you think your Mom would still speak so highly of me if she saw me dressed as a slutty devil?”, you joked and he threw his head back in laughter, taking you even more by surprise when he threw his arms around you in a hug. It was a bit awkward with you sitting on the bar stool and all and it made you realize that he himself didn’t even feel the same anymore, his career of being a professional athlete shaping his body into a much more bulkier version of the one you were used to.

As you looked over his shoulder you caught the gaze of your Superman and your thoughts immediately returned to him. What must he be thinking of you hugging another stranger at the bar after telling him to come see you? The confusion was evident of his face, a crease between his eyebrows giving his thoughts away and you noticed how he scrunched up his nose in a very cute way so you immediately pulled back from Tito, reaching up to adjust your horns as a disguise for your sudden movement.

“So, did you finally manage to make your dreams of living and working in New York City come true?”, he asked as he took a step closer to let someone else pass by and you nodded, amazed that he still remembered after all these years. He really was one of the good guys.

“Yep, I finally made it, although it’s not as glamorous as I thought it would be. But maybe that’s only us working class people, I’m sure it’s a lot different in your line of work.” Thankfully he picked up on your teasing and wasn’t insulted, only laughing even more as he finally had the space to move next to you so he could look at the crowd as well.

“Speaking of work..”, he trailed off as he switched back to English and to your utter disbelief he waved your Superman over. Superman was reluctant to move at first, that much you could tell by looking at him, and since you watched him extra closely you were probably the only one to catch him flinching a little as Tito threw his arm around his shoulders but his confused expression was obvious as he looked between the two of you.

“Y/N, this is my teammate and best friend Mat, I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Mat, this is my ex Y/N. You’ve also heard of her.”

Of course you’d heard of Mathew Barzal, last year’s Calder winner and rising star among the NHL’s elite players but it seemed like you were a victim of the Clark Kent Effect because you hadn’t recognized him at all with the glasses on.

Now your Superman had a name but the only thing you could focus on were the words “best friend”. No matter how hot Mat was and how much you’d wanted him before, very much imagining him helping you out of your tight dress, you couldn’t do that to Tito.

Mat seemed to come to the same realization as you because he plastered what could only be described as a business smile on his face, extending his hand for you to shake. You took it, relishing in the way his warm palm felt against yours and allowing yourself to enjoy his touch one last time before letting go and smiling at him with sad eyes as you introduced yourself.

Tito stayed to order a drink, pulling Mat and you into a conversation and therefore preventing your escape and while that was already bad enough in itself, he unknowingly took your breath away when he asked Mat:

“Hey, did you ever find that hot klutz you told me about? The one that fell into your arms earlier?”

Tito had his back towards the both of you so he didn’t see the way Mat looked down at you with sad eyes as well before pulling himself together and responding:

“Yeah, but turns out she’s not available after all.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur, you’d returned to alcohol after saying goodbye to Tito and Mat and promising Tito to stay in touch, so you barely remembered climbing into an uber hours later and only really came to your senses when you chugged a water bottle in your kitchen.

“Wait, weren’t you planning on going home with that hot Superman you mentioned earlier? What happened to him?”, Emily asked from her spot on the couch, her usual spot after a night out since your apartment was closer.

“I guess he left”, you answered, not really willing to go into any details right now.

“Aw, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And wasn’t that the truth.

[kmikaelsonimagines]

The 1: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: The 1 please xx

I didn’t realise until I read over this, but there’s a bit of me in this one, in that what Kol feels is very similar to my own experiences. If you guys ever need to talk about anything similar to the content in this imagine, please don’t hesitate to pop me a message. Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

The 1

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "yes" instead of "no" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

Kol had been doing well for the first time since it happened. It had only taken a few months, but he was finally beginning to feel some level of peace. He knew that he would never be the person he was again, never feel entirely complete, not after what had happened, but he was starting to feel almost contented.

It was what she would have wanted, always moaning at him for being too moody whenever things didn’t go quite the way he wanted them to. He smiled at the memory, seeing her faint outline standing in front of him.

It wasn’t really her, he knew that, but it was better than nothing. Better than being alone with his thoughts, better than letting himself spiral into a deep dark void where he was reminded of all his mistakes, self-loathing swallowing him up.

He refused to let that happen, not again, knowing that if he fell down that hole again, there would be no-one to help him out of it. No-one had the first time, after all, his family either hiding and pretending it didn’t happen, or threatening him if he stepped a foot out of line.

It was why he had left Mystic Falls, not being able to face them, not that they would have missed him.

But now a few months on, he realised that he needed to go back. He took a breath before opening the front door, stepping into the house where it happened.

The house where Y/N had died.

I hit the ground running each night I hit the Sunday matinée You know the greatest films of all time were never made

The first thing he saw was the book on the armchair. Spine broken, pages old and worn, leather bookmark sticking out of them. He knew that book, knew its smell, its touch, the way it made the reader smile.  

It was Y/N’s, something he had obviously left behind when he had taken her things and moved them out of the Mikaelson mansion. Someone was reading it, and as Kol inhaled its scent, hoping that Y/N’s had lingered, he felt anger bubble up as hers was swallowed by that of his older brother.  

Elijah.  

Kol tried to drown out the image of his sibling with one of Y/N, of her telling him just how this was the greatest book of all time, how a film should be made out of it. He had promised her that one day, when that movie was made, he would take her to see it on a Sunday afternoon, and she had smiled, her eyes lighting up as she kissed his cheek.  

Kol pulled the bookmark out of the pages, and pocketed the book. He would take it home with him when he was done here and leave Elijah with the ever damning thought that he would never find out what happened at the end of the novel.   

Just like Y/N would never see that movie. I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

“You’re back.” Kol was snapped out of his thoughts of Y/N by the voice of his sister. Turning, he looked at Rebekah, her eyes so full of sadness and hope that maybe her brother would stay this time.

“Not for long. Just need to pick up some things, and then I’ll be gone.” His words were clipped, and he turned his back on his sister as he walked towards where his bedroom was. No, not his bedroom. Their bedroom. His and Y/N’s.

“Kol.”

“What, Rebekah? What could you possibly want?”

“How are you?”

Kol shook his head. He knew his sister cared, knew that she was trying. But it was too little, too late. If she wanted him to stay in the first place, then maybe she should have tried a little harder all those months ago. Maybe she shouldn’t have sided with Klaus when Kol went on a bloody rampage out of grief, his hybrid brother threatening to dagger him again.

Fucking hypocrite. How many people had died at Klaus’s hands after he had lost someone?

But Kol didn’t say any of that. “Fine.”

He opened up the wardrobe, trying not to look at the bed where he and Y/N had slept.

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

Kol knew Rebekah was still standing there, watching him as he ran his fingers over Y/N’s clothes. Unlike the book that still rested in his pocket, her scent still lingered, and he resisted the urge to cover himself in it, to wrap each dress, each t-shirt, each jacket around his body.

If he did that, he was sure he would break down, and all his progress would be for nothing.

His gaze turned to a black dress, short feathered sleeves between his fingers as he remembered the day Y/N had worn it. It had been her birthday, he forgot which one, but he remembered how she had leaned over the railings surrounding the pond in the park.

He remembered how she had pulled coins out of her purse and given one to him.

“Make a wish, Kol.”

“You know we could just do this with magic.”

She’d pushed him playfully. “Just throw it in. You can’t tell me your wish otherwise it won’t come true.”

She had said that he couldn’t tell her. It hadn’t stopped him from showing her that night, pushing the dress off her shoulders and her body into the bed behind him.

Kol took the clothes off the hangers and packed them into the box he had brought with him.

And if my wishes came true It would've been you

“Kol, can you just talk to me? Please.”

Kol walked past his sister with that box of Y/N’s clothes, pretending as if she wasn’t there. He hadn’t forgiven her for what had happened those months ago, for siding with his brothers, for acting like Y/N hadn’t even lived in the house.

Kol hadn’t stopped blaming himself for what had happened to her. If only he hadn’t shown her his wish, maybe she would have still been alive. If only he hadn’t whispered it onto her skin, maybe he wouldn’t have had to bury her.

If his wish had come true, Y/N would still be here. If his wish had come true, Kol and Y/N would have been spending the rest of eternity together.

He surveyed the room, patting his pocket to check that her book was still there. It seemed he had everything he needed. Except-

There was a dagger at his back, the point digging into his skin through his coat. He froze, a familiar chill creeping over him. It had been Klaus last time, it had been Klaus almost every time.

He had never thought it would be his sister, never thought it would be Rebekah threatening him.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you to listen.”

In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone

Kol’s anger grew as Rebekah spoke, and he tried ridiculously hard not to snap.

“I know you’re upset with us, but we’re your family Kol. We were hurting too. We miss her too.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” His voice was flat as he tried to remain calm, tried to keep his defenses up, the way Y/N would want him to. “Are you going to put that bloody dagger down?”

“Not until you agree to forgive us.”

That was it. That was the moment Kol snapped, his rage pouring over him in waves.

“Forgive you? Forgive this family? You must be joking. You’re the reason she’s dead. Klaus thought the best idea would be to put me away, Elijah won’t even show his face, and you’re swanning around in one of her dresses. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I can’t forgive you when you won’t even acknowledge that she’s dead, and that it’s your fault, because this bloody family is too damn obsessed with pride and power, and can never leave things alone.”

“But we’re family, Kol.”

Hearing in Rebekah’s voice that she was off guard, Kol turned and gripped the blade in his hand, yanking it away from his sister. “No, we’re not. Y/N was my family, and you all took that away from me.”

He dropped the knife to the floor and left the house.

But it would've been fun If you would've been the one

Once back in his car, Kol put the box full of Y/N’s clothes on the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel so tightly he thought his knuckles would protrude from his skin. He wanted to scream, but knew that once he did that, it would attract attention and that was the last thing he wanted.

So he took deep breaths, trying desperately to steady himself before he drove home. Whatever home was anymore.

He remembered the book in his pocket, and pulled it out so as not to damage it whilst he drove. He fingered the pages, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he remembered Y/N’s words.

“You’d like it if you just read it, Kol.”

“I’ll wait for the movie.”

Kol smiled, tears welling in his eyes. If there was ever a time to read Y/N’s favourite book, it was now. He opened it up and his breath caught at what was scrawled onto the front page.

Kol,

If you’re reading this, it means you’ve finally listened to my advice.

I love you, and just so you know, you’ve always been the one for me.

Y/N xxx

Kol lifted the book up to his nose, and there it was, the last lingering trace of her scent. He inhaled it, breathing in all he had left of his Y/N.

Kol had been doing well for the first time since it happened. It had only taken a few months, but he was finally beginning to feel some level of peace. He knew that he would never be the person he was again, never feel entirely complete, not after what had happened, but he was starting to feel almost contented.

None of that stopped him from placing his forehead on the steering wheel and crying until his throat was raw.

None of that stopped him from mourning Y/N, the woman who should have been the one.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist